A Mudblood's Place
by Weatherthestorm
Summary: {Post War} Hermione find's herself alive in the hands of none other then the slytherin prince, however her life is that of a common house elf, reduced to scrubbing toilets. lucious is dead,Draco is lord. Is this a case of classic stockholm syndrome, or does a certain blond git have some substance? Dark fic, not much fluff. M for sexual abuse/ trigger topics. Dead Harry, dark Ron.
1. Chapter 1: Monsters in the dark

**Disclaimer! None of these chracters belong to me, I merely borrowed them from J.K Rowling. This story is purely fanfiction. I recieve nor make any money from this.**

**~~( Author's note)~~**

**Hello my lovlies! So first I want to start out by saying, this is the first story I've ever been brave enough to publish, so please be kind. I would love any feedback, or suggestions. I'm currently without a beta , so with that being said,****Im accepting any of you that might be interested. Forewarning, a little about me, Im a mom of two, so my chapters may take a while to be posted. I'm going to try my best to post at least a chapter per week now that i've finally got my feet wet so to speak. Also I'm still trying to navigate the in's and out's of this site so please be patient with me!**  
**I'd like to state again, that this story will lack fluff, there might be a bit here and there, but mostly this is a dark fic. For Ron lovers, this may not be a story for you, Ive been holding a grudge since the DH, so I made him into the miserable bastard I see him as.**  
**This story includes dark themes of physical/sexual abuse,substance abuse/alcoholisim,and some moments of self harm so trigger warning again , for those of you who cannot handle said themes.**

** {updated/edited} 11/18/19**

Ch1: Monsters in the dark

The silent scream that tore from her throat burned like fire. Vocal cords strained and ripping in protest, even though the room was deathly quiet save for his desperate gasps and muttered curses as he violated her. Time seemed to shudder to a stop looping her in this agony. Simultaneously it trapped and drew out this moment between them until she had no tears left. The remaining wet stains on her face chilled her bruised cheeks, and she realized she couldn't remember how long she'd been down in this barren dank stone floors looked as though they had been wet for centuries.

The smell of mold, and wet decay, it was suffocating and vile , but nothing was quite as vile as the man inside her. She couldn't recall how many times he had stumbled down the master's stairs, reeking of fire whiskey and stale cigarettes. He was never sober when he visited, and she suspected he was rarely sober at all anymore. All the worse,the more he drank, the more he took pleasure in breaking wasn't even a shell of the man she had known, more resembling an alien that inhabited his body like a fleshy suit.

Hermione pressed her face to the floor. The hard surface battered and scrapped against her already abused face as he bucked into her body, aggressively chasing his climax. Her chestnut curls flopped lifelessly over her face, clinging to her sweaty skin in a grimy matted curtain of vomit and tears. She wished with all her might that she could just disconnect from her body,and float away, but the shock of who he was, who he had been to her, kept her rooted firmly in the present. Stuck in the horror of the moment.

"Fuuuuck... Mione... You're always... S... So tight!"

His fingers were curled like claws into the bunched material of her skirt at her her back into him as his pale, almost hairless, thighs slapped against her ass, he leered at her, dull cornflower blue irises, lidded with drunken lust. She could'nt help but wonder if she was the only one he treated this way. What if there were others just like her? The worst of it was, she couldnt stop him. She hadn't a wand anymore and he wasn't a waif of a man.

"Hnnngh... So... W... Wet too... You love this don't you, you little mudblood whore..."

His voice rasped out, making her insides roll as he continued to force his thick, heavy cock in her, stretching her open until she ached. He expertly tilted her pelvis in one smooth movement, angling her so that his girth pressed against the hidden bundle of nerves. Stroking with smooth glides, she could almost feel the smirk he wore as he pistoned until her own body gave way with the gentle fluttering of her walls and the steady drip of her slick arousal . He always goaded her close to the end, slurs falling from his lips like a prayer, begging for her to tell him she loved it, that she wanted him. Even though he lost himself in the fantasy he never released the silencing charm.

The sound of her sobs shattered his fragile illusion that she wanted him, that she belonged to him. _Coward_. It whispered through her mind over and over. It was the most awfull feeling in the world, to be violated by someone that you would have trusted with your life, loved with all your heart. It was a special kind of betrayal that hurt in the deepest parts of your being and yet no matter how it hurts you find yourself making excuses and blaming everyone but the person hurting you.

"That's right Mione, come on, tell daddy you l... Love his big, ginger cock..."

_God's if only she could scream_... He rolled his hips into her faster, slamming himself against her cervix,battering and punishing her insides as a tightness coiled in her belly. Today he showed her no mercy. She closed her stinging eyes trying to hold herself together willing away the feeling of her own impending climax... She hated him... She hated herself... Hated that even though she didn't want this she couldn't stop the reaction.

_This is sick...Gods please make this stop..._ A hand gripping her waist released its hold on the material of her skirt, drifting down to rub a callused palm over the smooth, bronzed expansion of her ass. He gripped her for a moment, giving her flesh a bruising heavy weight disappeared for a moment only to return, giving the round supply flesh a stinging slap, forcing her eyes to snap open as she sucked in a surprise gasp.

"Keep your eyes open slut, I want to watch your face when I fill your filthy cunt to the brim"

Bile rose in her throat, she was going to be sick. _I can't believe I... I... loved him, how can he do this to me_. Just as soon as the thought drifted through her mind she felt his hand slither between the apex of her thighs, his fingers slipping between the slicks folds. He gave her clit a rough pinch, tugging on the tiny nub until her back arched, her walls clamping down around him milking the turgid flesh as her orgasm ripped through her. She heard him suck in a hiss, his other hand sliding back to palm her ass so hard his nails broke the delicate skin.

His thrusts became frantic, and wild. She could feel him pulsing, like living steel as he impaled her tiny frame. A loud groan came Straight from his diaphragm as he gave a final thrust pressing himself so deep she felt as though he was going to tear her in half. Hot spurts of his climax coated her womb with his sin and Her stomach gave a final lurch. Hermione rose from the floor just enough to silently retch, mucus and stomach acid sloshing on the stone as she gagged.

He Shoved himself away from her as she was sick his softening cock slipping from her freely. The buckle of his belt jostled as the man she had once considered her future husband stuffed his still drooling prick into his trousers. She wiped a filthy shaking hand across her mouth and she turned her haunted gaze to the man, recoiling into herself, as she watched his freckled face crumple with disgust, pale, baby blues glittering with hate.

Ron held her gaze as he righted his disheveled clothing. The warmth and love he once held for her, replaced with a cold, antipathy, as if at his core he'd always been repulsed by her. Whoever he had been before, that man had long since been dead. He had died the day that their friend had fallen. Ron and Ginny both, whatever had happened to them when the Death Eaters had carted them off it had changed who they were. Nothing on the inside remained of the family she had once fancied herself a part of.

" Straighten yourself out yeah, you look a bloody mess, even for a filthy mudblood. Can't have the blond ferret upstairs knowing what a cock hungry whore he has living down here. For someone as disgustingly rich as he is, he is right selfish with his toys. Git."

The insult to her blood status rolled off his tongue with an accustomed ease, yet it never lessened the sting it delivered to her heart. She was filthy, not even a person really, the equivalent to a rodent. Her body moved numbly, dragging her from her crumpled state, until she stood on weak legs. Hermione's knees knocked together, as she righted her skirt. The scratchy dull cotton tumbled down until it brushed the top of her shins, covering the bloody scrapes and bruises.

The color reminded her of dirty mop water, the color of filth, to reflect her position in this new couldn't hide the blooming dark purple on her cheek, but she could hide the evidence of her shame. It was bad enough she had to live with knowing that her blood was tainted, but she couldn't live with herself if anyone found out she had become a death eater cock sleeve. Hermione knew that the others that had been sold to Death Eater homes, they shared the same shame she did. Rape was a impliment to control, to weaken your true self, and it was mighty effective.

Not that anyone would care that it had been against her will, if anyone found out it would still reflect poorly on her master, that she was sullying his home by spreading her filthy legs. Snubbing her nose at his kindness, and compassion. He'd saved her by allowing her to scrub his toilets instead of being thrown to Fenir, and his insatiable pack of werewolves. Raping mud-bloods happened, but it happened quietly behind closed doors. A dirty secret that no one discussed in the open. So she would keep this awful secret if for no other reason thento protect her Master and his reputation.

Ron was silent as he regaurded her,his pale cheeks flushed with his previous actions and the alcohol that still coursed through his system. He pulled his wand from his pocket and gave a sluggish wave, releasing the silencing spell as he bent leaned to fish out an unopened bottle of whiskey from a stacked crate. Using his teeth barbarically, he unscrewed the lid and spit it on the ground before taking a heavy drink straight from the bottle. A bit dribbled down his chin as he swallowed and he let the bottle Fall rom his lips, not even bothering to wipe it away as he let out a grotesque belch.

Hermione wanted to scream again, every part of her inside and out was in agony. She wanted so badly just to curl up and lay there on the floor forever, let her life slip away so that she would never have to look at his face, or feel him on her body again, but no matter how bad things got, she could'nt give up. This horrible moment wouldn't last forever, and she refused to give up until she drew her very last breath. Harry didn't give his life for her to give up and she would carry his memory till the end. Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, she let out a shakey huff.

" I wish it had been you Ronald. You deserved to die, not Harry. If he could see you now..."

"Ah fuck off, stupid four eyed tosser, If he had been smart he would've joined the Dark Lord when he offered, could've been laid up in his own manor, shagging a pretty little pure-blooded witch. Not a care in the world. He got himself killed, and for what? So a filthy whore like you can play pretend and steal magic from us with your nose in the air? "

" I didn't steal my magic Ronald. I was born with it, just like you and every other witch and wizard."

"Bollocks. You're a theif and know-it-all swot. You are exactly where your kind belongs, under my feet and wrapped around my prick. It really is a shame about your blood though your Cunt is loads better then my wife's. I guess thats how you sneaky bitches snag a wizard to steal magic from."

He really was delusional. He had always been a bit of a pig, but this...this was something else entirely. Like some 'Invasion of the body snatchers' type of insane. Not only was he entirely convinced she some how stole her magic, he fully believed that she was making him weak by enticing him to rape her so she could do it. Ron had never been the brightest star in the sky, but he wasn't entirely stupid. Whatever they had done to him, he was fully immersed in their agenda. It didn't excuse it though, even though Malfoy was born to be a Death Eater, he wasn't down here fucking her in the muck like some sex demon.

She had thought watching Harry die had been the worst pain she could ever feel, how wrong she was. She thought surely she would die that day too, her and everyone else that had faught against Voldemort. Unfortunatly death would've been an easy way out in comparision. They had rounded them all up like cattle, locked her and her kind up in cages like beasts, and carted off the remaining blood-traitors, like Ron, and the remaining Weasley's. She hadn't seen any of them until what was left of the Malfoy's had disinergrated.

Hermione had nothing left to say to him. It was useless to plead with him to see the light. Hopeless to expect any reminants of the person he used to be to feel some sort of sympathy, because it just wasn't there anymore. She had no more energy left to keep beating this dead horse. She could hardly find the energy to roll out of bed anymore much less spend the rest of her waking torment of wanting to crawl out of her own skin to undo the brainwashing that had been done.

The ginger haired man spared no more time on her, and it wasn't until his solid frame ascended the stairs, that she drew a full breath. She could feel the remnants of her shame dribble thickly past her lower lips and lazily make a slick path down her inner thigh, clinging to her dirty skin. The urge to vomit again thrummed in her rolling stomach, but she swallowed it down. This was her life now, and if she didn't stop throwing up her meager meals, she was going to waste away. Turning away from her view of the stairs, she methodically went about lighting a few more candles, trying to eliminate some of the ever present darkness of the cellar she'd called home for the past couple of months.

As pathetic as it was, and despite how much she loathed her existance she counted herself lucky. Yes it was always cold, but she had running water with a sink, which served as a shower, a means of cleaning, and also a place she could empty the bucket she used as a toilet. It wasn't the most sanitary, but it was better then the rank stench of raw sewage. Hermione lit a final sconce, before blowing out the tapered candle in her hand, and setting it beside her straw stuffed mattress. She ignored the familiar ache that lingered between her thighs, and the raw burn in her throat, it was wasted energy and emotion to dwell on the things she could not control nor change.

From the sink, Hermione retrieved a stained ragged bit cloth that she kept folded over the lip for washing, and held the scrap under the faucet as she twisted the handle. Ice cold water poured from the rusty, metal pipe, and she shivered as it splashed over her fingers, chilling her to the bone. It seemed stupid , and selfish, but she wished more then anything in the world, that she could crawl into a claw-footed, porcelain tub, filled to the brim with water so hot, it would tinge her skin a bright pink. She missed the feeling of rich , frothy bubbles tickling her skin leaving its perfume to linger on her. It had been a privilege she had taken for granted.

Reaching for the tiny bit of soap square she had, she worked the soap into the cloth before she began to wash the bile, and salty tear stains from her face. She couldn't be seen in this state. Her master demanded nothing short of perfection, and if he had caught her scurrying around his home stinking it up with the smell of her vomit, or touching anything with her grimy fingers, the punishment he would inflict would make Ron's cellar visits seem like a tropical vacation. After she scrubbed her face until her skin felt tender, she leaned her slight body over the sink and rinsed the bile from the tips of her hair. At this point she was so cold her teeth rattled in her skull and her fingers felt blistered.

She quickly rung out her damp tresses and hiked her skirt up to her hips to swipe the cloth between her legs. She was desperate to wash away the part of Ron that he'd left behind, wipping until her folds burned from the friction. The rape itself was horrible, but it was his lack of concern of her possibly becoming pregnant from his visits, that set her anxiety to new hieghts. There would be no hiding it then, her truth would be exsposed with the growing roundness of her belly. It would be a death sentence for her.

That act in itself broke her heart. She was young, too young to ever consider being a mother yet, but it hadn't been that long ago when the feeling of his ejaculate seeping out of her had filled her her entire body with heat and the longing to one day start a family with him. She would never be free, again, much less a mother, and if she was, it wouldn't be a baby born of love. It would be just another deadly secret, created and born from violence and hate. She would never be able to feel that joy. It was just another one of the many things she had been robbed of.

Turning the water off, Hermione returned the bit of cloth and soap to their places and stood up-right, letting her skirt fall back into place. She didn't think she would ever be clean again, but the quick wipe down made her feel slightly human. In the cellar , time seemed to stand still. The only thing that gave her a clue to the passing of time, was the plumetting temperature in the room. As night-time approached, not even her thin wool blanket could stave off the chill. Luckily for her, she had been ahead of her chores, because she could only guess it was well past dinner time.

She most likely wouldn't be needed anymore until morning, but at least she was ready in case the lord called for a late night cuppa. Trudging to her flimsy, make-shift bed, she flopped her thin, worn body down onto the straw mattress. It was far from comfortable but it was more soft and warmer then the stone floor beneath it, and it wasnt long before exhaustion set in . She untucked her blanket from under her and pulled it up around her, from toes to her chin. Tired. She was so lids drooped down over whiskey colored orbs, long , thick lashes brushing against her cheeks as darkness finally claimed her and for once she didnt fight it.


	2. Chapter 2: The beginning of the end

**~~~{Authors note}~~~ Hello again my lovlies! So here we are with a second chapter, so soon. I tried not to rush this one as much as I feel I rushed the first. Origionally this story ( I'm ashamed to admit) was actually a long process over the past few months, the intial forced scene flowed pretty quickly , but then I struggled trying to give it some meat on its bones. So the end of that chapter feels a bit forced, and rushed to me. I keep revisiting it, and fixing mistakes here and there, but really without constructive feedback, I'm lost, seeing as how my perfectionist brain won't ever be satisfied. For now, moving on with the story. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! Please again, don't be shy to leave me a review, yes I'm a baby but this baby needs to walk ;)**

**{updated/edited} 11/18/19**

Ch2: The beginning of the end

Normally, Hermione awoke to the sound of the sprung bells attached to the wall above her bed, ringing gently as the house-elves saw to their routine, unseen. It served secondary, as her alarm clock. This morning, however, the soft jingling of the copper bells remained eerily silent and for the first time since she had arrived at the Malfoy Manor, Hermione slept in as the sun crept over the horizon. Sprawled out across her straw mattress, in a mess of tangled legs and bushy hair, Hermione was having a rather wonderful dream. Well really it was more of a memory, of her life before this mess.

One where Harry called down to her from his perch on a broom as the warm, summer sun beat down on her freckled face, his gleeful smile infectious. It was the sort of dream that left you with a deep longing. One that you clung to as you felt consciousness try to drag you back down to reality. She awoke reluctantly to thesound of shoes scraping the stone floor. Although still groggy from sleep, she knew before she could even peel her whiskey-colored eyes open, who the owners of the shoes belonged to and a sense of panic crept down her spine.

All the tiny hairs on her body rose as her skin broke out in goosebumps and her deep, even breaths from sleep drew shallow. Her senses filled as he neared her disheveled form, with the rich leather scent of his expensive, dragon-hide loafers, and the masculine fragrance of his earthy Burberry cologne, until she felt as thoughshe was choking on it. She could even hear the slight limp in his step as he favored one leg over the other. If the weather had been colder she would be able to hear the slight tap of his cane. The cold had a way of making old scars ache. Had he been anyone else she might have considered his old war injury a weakness, but what is a minor limp to a Malfoy?

It didn't bode as a good sign when the Lord of the manor himself took time out of his day to bother the help. Hermione spent much of her time on eggshells as it was. Her gut telling her that her postion here was merely temporary, and that he could see her sins on her skin. The quiet scuff of his shoes stopped just by her head, and hesitantly, Hermione let her eyelids flutter open to stare up at the face of the man, that had been her doom, and yet simultaneously her savior.

Malfoy's molten, silver gaze rested on her with an intensity that was jarring as he loomed over her. It made her consider things that if possible she hated herself even more for, like how he might have turned out if Harry had won instead? For a foul git, he was hauntingly beautiful. Although his personality was less then to be desired. She supposed there had to be something there she wasn't seeing, for his wife to have loved him as much as she had.

She had been as any pure-blooded wife was expected to be, but she was far too kind of a woman to have loved someone who was inherently evil. She knew, that he hadn't been able to kill Dumbledor, did that make him capable of goodness or just a coward? Shaking her head to clear it of all the foggy errant thoughts, Hermione bit back a groan as her sore body protested the movement. Straw matresses didn't have much in the way of support, and she never did get used how sore she was in the it wasn't as if Ron had done her body any favors.

She expected fury when she stared up into those endless depths, what she found was a confusing mix of curiosity and a hint of empathy in his swirling pools of mercury. His face was set with an unreadable amount of tension, as if in concentration, and his lips were curled into somewhat of a half sneer that lacked venom .It was a rather unusual look on him, one she couldn't recall having ever seen. Long tendrils of platinum, baby fine hair were left to carelessly frame his face like a halo, giving him an ethereal glow. From a distance, he could have easily been mistaken for the former lord Malfoy, but up close he held a slight softness that age had not chiseled away.

If she hadn't known what he was capable of, the raw power and danger that hid beneath the picture-perfect mask he wore, she could see herself enthralled with his beauty. He moved stealthfully. lean, coiled muscles rippled under the fabric of his cashmere jumper as he reached towards her, completely unnoticed until his cold elegant fingers ghosted over the bruised hollow of her cheek. He began tracing the now blackened outline with something akin to tenderness. A gasp fell from Hermione's parched lips at the sudden contact of his smooth fingertips, and she recoiled so violently that she launched herself backward into the wall. The stone was unforgiving, and the sickening sound of her skull cracking against it carried throughout the room.

Black spots danced across her vision, as pain wrapped around her entire skull, and made her brain throb in protest. Hermione let out a soft guttural groan as her almond-shaped eyes swam with unshed tears, and she wound her delicate fingers in her Chesnut curls to rub the hastily forming knot on her scalp. Gingerly, she tested the tender skin to see if she had split it open. Pulling her hand away she glanced down to check her fingers for blood. Although her fingers were clean she breifly worried she might have given herself a concusion.

The gentleness in which he had touched her was frightening in itself. The only touch she had ever received from a Malfoy was, to say the least, brutal. It also stood a point, if the master was down here in the cellar, it meant without a shadow of a doubt, she was royally fucked! He cleared his throat as he let his hand fall back to his side, seemingly just as shocked by his own actions as she had been.

"Alright there Granger, take it easy. I can't exactly pump you for information if you give yourself brain damage."

Recognition seemed to light up in his forefront, as though he had reached the answers to his silent pondering. Hermione watched the swirling mercury cloud over to a harsh, stormy grey, and the muscles in his jaw protruded as he clenched his perfect teeth together. She could hear them grinding together from his barely suppressed rage. A vein near his temple began to pulse angerly, and she felt her body leaning as far away from him as she could, on its own accord, at the sudden change in his demeanor. Like a primal part of her knew he was a second away from strangling the life from her body at a moments notice. He was damn scary when he wanted to be.

" I'm only going to ask this once Granger, and it is in your best interest, that you plug up that bleeding heart of yours, and tell me exactly what that ginger, curb crawler weasel has been doing down here with you."

How had he known? If he had seen him coming down here, why hadn't he said anything before? All the color in her faced drained like someone had pulled the stopper on her life force. She felt boneless and she silently prayed she could just melt into her matress and disappear. Malfoy's voice was gruff with the fury she had been expecting initially, and his rich baritone held an edge that he held zero tolerance for anything but the truth.

Straight to the point, unlike in his youth, grown-up Malfoy had very little patience for games. Hermione supposed it had a lot to do with the ever-growing strain of his family responsibilities and the lack of control he had over the deteriorating situation. Or, as much as she loathed to admit it, maybe he had just grown up. The vein in his temple seemed to grow as she paused to answer. She really didn't want to tell him.

Training her gaze down to the floor as a sign of submissive obedience, Hermione swallowed thickly, her throat constricting with fear...this was it...these past few months had simply been a prelude to her inevitable end. Although she rarely ran across him, she had always been aware of his presence, and the wizards he employed to run his mundane affairs saw dutifully to remind her of his unyielding, unforgiving nature. They punished her without an ounce of mercy for something as simple as a wrinkle in a bedsheet. He would hold her at fault.

"...Ron...h...he..."

Sparing a glance back up at Malfoy, she could feel her blood boiling under his withering stare. She couldn't tell him if she told him it would make it real. In her moment's pause, his hand was on her once again, and gone was the tenderness he had shown a moment before, as his fingers curled around her fragile wrist like a vice, squeezing painfully until she thought it would snap. She barked out a yelp as he added to the collection of bruises to her battered body.

" Today Mudblood! Are you daft, or just hard of hearing!?"

Her entire body was quivering as fat tears spilled down her face. Gods, she hated him almost as much as she hated Ron! Malfoy was damn good at bending people to his will. An expert at drawing out answers, her mouth at that precise moment was moving on its own, betraying her, desperate to make him release his hold. The sad part about it was, she hadn't offered a bit of resitence as if she had been slipped Veritaserum. She cracked like an egg , spilling her contents.

" I-I don't know much about anything Malfoy. I t-tried to stop him, t-to make it stop. Please understand I-I would never disrespect you o-or take the kindness you've given me for granted.."

"GRANGER! Stop apologising and get to the point."

"h-he rapes me.."

The words that had been spilling out of her mouth like verbal diarrhea until she was blubbering and stuttering over herself felt like ash in her mouth. She was pathetic. The silence that followed her admision hung over the room in a heavy she hadn't been paying close attention to him, Hermione might have missed the flash of sorrow Malfoy wore, for it was quickly replaced with his cold mask of indifference. It still made her feel sick.

Pity. He pitied her. Releasing his iron-like grip from her wrist, she watched as Malfoy retracted his long elegant fingers to brush away her invisible filth on his slacks. A habit that made her want to curl up and die with shame. It was his turn to pause as though he were considering how to move forward with this information. Did he blame her? Did he consider it an act of rebellion? Did he even believe she hadn't wanted it? After all once upon a time, Ron had been the love of her life, the very same man she had given her virginity to willingly.

Clutching her wrist in her free hand, Hermione drew it to her chest protectively, afraid he might grab her again. Clearing his throat again as if he were suddenly uncomfortable with his train of thought, Malfoy glanced away to stare at the grimy wall, his eyes squinted as he ran a hand through his silken locks in a moment of distress. It did little more then fall back into his trained position, framing his handsome face.

"I suppose my next question should be...Are you still...Y'know...receiving your monthly... or should I be expecting a ginger halfbreed bastard running about? I would rather not get a nasty surprise in a few months."

" Im not pregnant that I know of Malfoy."

It was a fair question, but for some unknown reason a bubble of rage and embarrassment took root in her, and she felt her cheeks turn an angry scarlet. She spat her response at him, a scowl planted firmly on her face. It was a relief that he didn't seem to be blaming her, but the way he was speaking to her made it feel like she were just some stray animal that they had taken in and forgotten to get spayed. She was a goddamn person, that had been violated. Even if he saw her as beneath him, she was still human.

" Although, if you don't get ahold of your Death Eater friends, I wont be the only one you'll be concerned about breeding bastard half-bloods. I hardly think I am the first and last person Ronald has been... forcing himself on."

Hermione flinched at her own tone and admission. His cool indifference never wavered however, and instead of retaliation for her disrespectful tone, Malfoy calmly reached down to his trouser pocket to retrieve a small, dark blue vial. Casually, he dropped the vial into her lap. He had come prepared to receive the bad news. Seemingly embarassed by his actions, his stormy eyes stayed trained on the wall as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. A small act of un-Malfoy like kindess.

" Drink it, it's a contraceptive, and if the Weasle left you any lingering gifts... it should take care of it as well...Consider it, what you muggles call an antibiotic mixed with 'Plan B' on steroids... I haven't the time to tailor it to your specific cycle but it should do you for about two months give or take a few weeks. As for that manky tosser, I'll be dealing with him shortly. I've ignored his penchant for tarts in the red light district, but I will not tolerate him sullying my home by buggering my help . I suppose once a blood traitor, always a blood traitor."

She wanted to thank him, but she couldn't force the words out. Part of her was beyond grateful despite his reasoning, but an unrational part of her was angry with the feeling that he had only offered her assistance to help himself. What a scandal it would be for all of them if she ended up pregnant under his care. It seemed as though he wanted to say more as well, but without a backward glance, Malfoy turned on his heel and strode away. Just as silently as he had arrived, he left, taking all the air in the room with him, leaving Hermione with a tirade of unasked questions.

Snatching up the vial that lay across her blanket in her lap, she removed the stopper with her teeth and downed the translucent liquid without hesitation. It was almost tasteless but it left a bitter film on her tongue. She could feel the warmth of the potion spreading through her womb coating her insides like a blanket of protection. Recorking the vial, she let out a sigh, setting the tiny glass figure beside her bed and pulled her woolen blanket off. She had already wasted the better part of her morning.

He hadn't punished her for sleeping in, nor had he punished her for the way she had spoken to him. He hadn't even retaliated for the situation with Ron. Hermione decided it was best not to push her luck anymore today, and swiftly set about fixing her wild mane of curls in a bun atop her head. It was messy, but it was the best she could do with the mane of hair she had been cursed her face a hasty wash, and running a shakey hand down her slender torso to smooth the wrinkles from her only uniform, Hermione looked over her haggard apperance in the mirror. The relfection staring back at her felt like a strangers.

Her face was worn, the dark purple circles under her eyes made her look as if she hadn't slept in years. It was disturbing how old she looked compared to the youthful face that had gazed back at her just months prior. Even being on the run hadn't made her look this bloody awfull. She wasn't quite pale, for her skin was naturally a bit bronzey even without a lie in the sun, but she lacked the healthy glow she'd had before the dark lord had succeeded. She wasn't the only one though it seemed like he had literally sucked the life from the world and left it just as bleak and dull as her dirty mop water colored dress.

As she Trudged up the rickety flight of stairs and went about her daily duties Hermione couldnt help but wonder briefly, if the world of blood supremacy, the world that they had destroyed many lives for, was everything they had expected? It was a way of life they had been fighting for and demanding since the war of Grindlewald. Yet even the masters seemed unhappy to have been given the fruits of their labor. In the end, it had whittled Lucius away until he was a paper husk of a man. Not that she cared, the evil git deserved every bit of the pain and suffering he had inflicted tenfold.

It was shortly after she had been given to the Malfoy's that, Hermione had stumbled upon his corpse. Huddled in his cigar room chair by the fire, he had died utterly alone. Empty bottles of gut-rot whiskey, littered the floor around him, and his skin had yellowed with jaundice as his liver shut down. He had drowned in his own bile. It was a small piece of justice, one that continued to carry her through her days with a hidden smile on her face.

Hermione felt nothing but satisfaction that Lucius could no longer draw good air, yet she couldn't help but feel a little bit awfull for Draco. He was just as alone in the world as she was now, and it did not fill her with any sort of comfort. Everyone needed someone , or else what was the point in living? There was only so much hope one could draw from themselves before the tank ran empty, she knew that first hand , because at this point she was barely coasting on fumes.


	3. Chapter 3:Carnations and Chrysanthemums

**~~~~~~~~~Author's note~~~~~~~~~~~**  
**So this chapter I decided to switch POV's Im not sure yet if this is something I will do very often, but I felt this was neccisarry for plot and character developement.I have a habit of ****jumping right into the deep end, and I'm trying to rectify that by giving a little back story and substance to the secondary characters, and by giving glimpse at the internal struggles . I ****don't believe that Draco is one demisional and therefore I cannot accept a potrayal of him being one demesional. I want to personally thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far, ****and a big thank you to those that are following me, your support means everything ! I'm still on the lookout for a Beta reader, so if you guys see any mistakes worth mentioning that I ****missed, feel free to point it out!**  
**My musical insperation for this chapter was by: James Auther- Say You Won't Let Go.**

**Ch3. Carnations and Chrysanthemums**

**{updated/edited} 11/18/19**

**Draco's Pov**

Month's prior, Draco had sat perched atop the corner of his bed, his fingers brushing absently over his wife Astoria's soft honey blond locks as she slept, their newborn infant son,Scorpious wrapped delicately in her arms. He was neither present nor coherent. It had been a long pregnancy for Astoria, much of which she had spent on bed rest. Her delicate, petite frame was built for rough shagging, but apparently not for motherhood. She had only been five months along, when after a fainting spell at dinner, that a medi-witch delivered the precarious news.

Her pregnancy had been viable, but just barely. She had been immediately ordered to bed rest and the stern-looking witch, although trying to remain positive, did not deliver news that he was ready to hear. Astoria most likely would not survive the delivery and the baby's condition still faired unknown. Her body was struggling to meet the demands of their baby growing inside though it was taking every bit of her, Astoria never faltered in her choice to continue the pregnancy. He knew she would give and give until she could literally give no more.

Stretched thin, Draco had exhausted every possible solution until only one was decided that close to her due date Astoria would go under a potion induced coma and the medi witch would deliver their young manually. It was the only way to reduce stress on both Astoria and their baby,the only solution that had any hope of saving both of their lives. On bed rest, Astoria maintained but did not thrive, as if Scorpius was stealing every bit of her substance as he grew. Draco had known that birthing a Malfoy heir was not for the faint of heart or the weak, but it hadn't crossed his mind when he had fallen head over heels for the diminutive beauty.

Astoria was kind, cunning, and ambitious. She had been everything he had admired in the fairer sex. It had never crossed his mind until a week-long 'stomach bug' turned out to be a baby, that her magic and her body might not be up to par. Even then it had only been a passing thought, right up until fainting incident Astoria's pregnancy had seemed normal enough. Other than her gaunt, shrinking appearance, which he had chalked up to her restless sleep and inability to keep much down, she seemed happy and normal. The medi-witch had assured them that some women never got over their morning sickness.

However once her morning sickness had finally subsided and she didn't seem to improve with more rest. The problem had become transparently clear. For weeks Draco had tried to convince Astoria to terminate the pregnancy. That they could try again another time, but she would have none of that stating she' would rather die bringing Scorpius into this world than live in one without him'. He admired her courage, her resolve, but It broke his heart. He dared not mention it again, no matter how much it tore him upinside to watch her deteriorate in front of him.

He tried his best to prepare himself for the worst-case scenario, but you can't prepare for death. So when Astoria had unexpectly gone into early labor, the medi-witch on call had little time to put her under. In which time both Astoria and their baby's heart rate had plummeted. Chaos had exploded in the manor as more medi-witches and nurses flooded his floo in an all hands on deck situation. House elves were in a panic fetching things left and right, even Granger had anxiously waited by their bedroom door from the shadows.

_Gripping her small hand in his, Draco, whispered frantically into his wife's ear. Tears soaking his porcelain cheeks as he peppered her with tiny kisses, he kept willing her to hear him in her unconcious state, willing her to muster the strength to keep fighting. A sheet hung between him and her lower half separating him from the carnage as the medi-witch was hastily trying to remove her uterus and cut Scorpius from her womb. There was no time for hospital delivery, and so Astoria laid there staining their marital bed with her blood. She felt too cold to his touch, her pale face if possible even more pale, almost blue._

_ There was no sound other this his own pleading, so when the jostling stopped and the medi- witch's face floated from above the sheet, looking grim, Draco's legs gave out from under him. The silence was deafening, there was no crying of a newborn baby, and all sense of urgency had stopped to a his position on the floor, Draco sobbed, his face buried into Astoria's chest as his knees dug numbly into the hardwood floor unnoticed. It was pure agony. A nurse took the small bundle of whatwas his baby to relieve the medi- witch and she began to heal the wound she had made in her rescue attempt._

_ She was talking then, trying to soothe his pain._

_ " I'm so sorry Mr. Malfoy...there was nothing else I could do..." _

_She paused as she waited for him. Draco lifted his head from Astoria, her faint heartbeat driving the sorrow into his very soul. His voice_

_cracked hasrshly as he trembled. _

_" And what of my wife? How am I supposed to tell her about the baby? He was...he was her everything, it will kill her!"_

_ There was that silence again,and then the sheet lowered to fold over his wife's lower half._

_ " Mr. Malfoy... your wife passed away some time ago...before I could even get her open, your baby suffered lack of oxygen I had_

_to restart her heart with a charm..her body is physically alive...but she will never wake up..."_

The memory of that day haunted him, like no other he had ever experienced in his life. Even the final battle paled in comparison to how he had felt that day. He couldn't sleep, he barely ate, hell if it hadn't been for the thought of how disappointed Astoria would be if she could see her husband so weak, Draco would have gladly lept from the ballroom balcony and splattered his brain matter across the marble flooring. It was a tough decision to keep going when all you wanted to do was give up, give in. Day's bled into weeks where sleep evaded him but he just could not muster the energy to get out of bed.

The cycle of self-pity and hatred kept him rooted in place, breathing in the lingering scent of his wife's lavender scented shampoo on her pillowcase that he refused to wash, and clutching a stuffed dragon he had stolen from Scorpius's unused crib. That was how he spent most of his nights, drunk,but unable to close his eyes, because every time he did all he could see was their faces. He had lost every bit of him self in mere moments. His wife and child laid buried together beneath the Stoney earth beside the Malfoy Matriarch, and a few weeks following he laid his father to rest a few feet away in the family plot. He didn't deserve to lay next to his mother.

Draco was the very last of his family, and he supposed it was fitting that his lineage die with him, but the choice was not his. It wasn't long before the letters of condolences moved to letters of marriage proposals. Mother's suffocated him with moving pictures of their silver spoon-fed daughters. It made his stomach churn. Every single one of them had the same narcissistic air about them, with their greedy little eyes and forced smiles.

It was disgusting. In this world, though love was just a myth that parents told their children to make the transition easier. Only duty, and blood purity existed as a reality. It didn't matter that Astoria had filled every single one of the holes in his heart with her love and that her death had left a gaping mass where his heart used to be. His duty was to remarry and produce an heir, even if he was dead inside.

For a while Draco had left letters to pile up, unopened. All he wanted was to wallow and grieve for the love of his life, and his sweet baby with tufts of his same white-blond hair. He had looked like a sleeping angel, the most beautiful child he had ever seen. However, his silence was a great offence to the old families and his Aunt Bella drifted in like the plague with her beta cuck's Theodore Nott and the Weasle, to remind him how weak he was. She made it her priority to scour every letter and select the most horrid of the lot and invite them to tea to consider their proposal in person as was custom.

People had called his Aunt mad, she wasn't mad she was downright sadistic, perfectly lucid just inherently gleeful at causing as much pain and misery to everyone she came into contact with as possible. His Aunt and her lackeys had become a semi-permanent fixture in his life as of late. Nott, he didn't mind so much, he was the only one who had understood, his Aunt had not tainted his loyal friend yet, but the godforsaken weasel was like an infestation. He skulked about his mansion, touching all of his things with his dirty blood traitor dick skinners, and drinking all of Draco's expensive whiskey.

For a while, he hadn't noticed Weasle's coming and goings throughout the manor until his fog of grief started to clear. Then he had begun to pay enough attention to the fool, to notice an unusual pattern. Too much attention if he were honest with himself. It had become a bit of an obsession to watch him walk around like an overgrown toddler, tripping over himself. Most evenings his Aunt insisted they dine together in which the rodent would stuff his gullet like a pig, drink an entire bottle of fire whiskey and then depart to the cellar to 'retrieve' another.

At first, he had assumed the gluttonous peasant just had a bit of a drinking problem like the rest of them did these days, until he started to take longer and longer to reappear upstairs, and then some nights he would disappear altogether not to show his face again until the morning. Smelling like body odor and stale sex. It took longer then he cared to admit to figure out what could be so fascinating about his cellar that the weasel spent all his free time visiting it. It was Granger. He had honestly forgotten all about the bushy bucked-toothed mudblood.

In his defense she went about the manor like a little church mouse, quiet and unseen. She was easy to forget when you're being pelted by a hale storm of bullshit and death. Draco did not immediately react to his discovery. In part because he was too worn to care about anyone or anything other than himself and his loss, but mostly he wanted to watch for a figure out if what was going on was some kind of rebellion or an illicit affair.

Weasel was born a blood traitor. Blood traitor or not though he was still, in fact, a pureblood and like every one of the pureblooded men his age, he had been married off early. Much to the displeasure of Ron's his wife Pansy, the Parkinson dowry vault had pulled his remaining family from poverty and back into the world of aristocratic society. All of which Draco refused to acknowledge. He still carried himself like a penniless slob, drinking and eating on someone else's knut and fawning enviously over his things. Merlin's saggy balls, the wretch still dressed in discounted clothing that had once belonged to someone else.

Draco didn't particularly like the pug-faced girl anymore now then he had at Hogwarts but he almost pitied the poor girl for being pawned off to the weasel like a lame Heffer past it's prime. She wasn't exactly a friend of his, not one that he would claim anyways, but they had grown up together and he did feel for her plight. Of course Draco probably would have felt pitty for any unlucky witch that would have been unfortunate enough to be forced to breed with that mouth breathing lump of stupid. Even more unfortunate still for Pansy, the weasle had seemingly inherited his family's abundant fertility, and she was at home heavy with set of twins on their first go around. What an incredible tragedy.

Draco decided to bid his time, and so he watched the weasel, shadowing his every move. Stalking had become his new hobby as of late, it gave him something else to obsess over other than his grief, and Slytherin be damned he was good at it. Despite how thick-headed the weasel was, he had lived through the same events Draco had and was a fair bit paranoid after the fact. It didn't help that he had also been grafted in with death eaters after the dark lord's victory. Strange as it was, even in a drunken stupor the tosser could be a bit slippery.

Tonight though he had finally caught the bastard getting careless. As usual Draco sat lounging at the dining table, nursing a brandy, swirling the dark amber liquid around in his tumbler, trying to forget who he was, when right on time, Weasle let out a disgusting belch as he set down his empty bottle of whiskey heavily and mumbled his retreat for more. His Aunt Bella barely glanced at his retreating form as she cackled hysterically to Nott's recounting of the tale about the time that he had imperiused Hannah Abbott and made her strip down to give Amycus Carrow a lap dance in the great hall.

Draco hid his disgust for the recounting, Hannah hadn't been the same after what they had done to the poor girl later that evening. Now she spent her day's walking the red district like a ghost, pale and grimy, mumbling to herself and offering discount blowjobs for a living. He wasn't soft by any means, but defiling a woman had never been something he had much of a stomach for. Instead of retreating to his bed chamber after dinner, Draco swallowed down the bile threatening spew deciding tonight he would linger, and it paid in his favor.

An hour, maybe two passed before familiar firey locks emerged from the cellar, a serene satisfied smirk plastered on his stupid fucking face which that in itself wasn't a give away, rather it was that his hands were empty. The ignorant piece of dragon dung had forgotten to knick a bottle on his way up. To top the cake, he reeked of body fluids and a smell that he could only describe as very Granger like. The snake had finally caught the rodent. It should have felt satisfying to know he had caught the Weasle, but it only made him furious.

Turning a knowing look to the oaf, Draco, for the most part, kept his displeasure to himself as he twirled a finger casually around the rim of his empty tumbler. Bella and Nott were decidedly sloshed at this point, but even sloshed, Bellatrix Lestrange missed energy in the room had amplified to electrically charged, so much so that she glanced up to stare at Draco. Giving an exaggerated frown Draco decided to toy with the weasel, looking away from her dark penetrating stare.

" Oi, Weasley what happened to the whiskey? It's awfully rude to keep us waiting for a fresh drink, yet here you are with no whiskey. Did you get lost?"

Game set. Ron's ears tinged a dark red as he glanced up stupidly at Draco, caught in his own lie, before glancing down at his empty hands. He could visibly see how hard he was working to come up with something akien to belivable. Draco almost wished he could enjoy watching him squirm, yet the images of a dirty Granger with tears in her eyes as that tosser had his way with her made its way to his forfront. As much as Draco wanted to believe it was just something as simple as a carefree romp,Granger didn't strike him as the type to be of loose morals. It wasn't in her nature to have one off with a married man, much less an active Death Eater even if he had been her boyfriend at one point.

"Uh...yeah all I could find was wine, don't drink the stuff myself it gives me a wicked hangover..."

This time, he couldn't help himself as he let his face pull into a full on grimace. The chill that ran through the dinning hall was almost tangible as his cool gaze stripped him to bare bones, glittering evilly in the low light. He hated the fucking prick. It was one thing to believe you were above someones blood status, it was another thing entirely to stoop so low as to hate fuck them. He wanted to rip his twig and berries off with his bare hands and shove it down the wanker's throat.

"How odd, the wine is usually kept in the kitchen...Did you ask the mudblood? I'm sure she would know!"

The panic that flashed across the idiot's face made a dark part of Draco's soul stir to life, purring with contentment. All three sets of eyes rotated and fell on the ginger all at once and Nott seemed to be working something out in his head, the gears turning so hard he could almost see smoke leaking from his ears. A matching pair of grins planted itself on the dark-haired man's face as well as his Aunt's, and Bellatrix purred at his side almost pleased with the turn of events.

"A mudblood you say? Now this is interesting, what's this about a mudblood dear nephew?"

Letting his head roll lazily on his shoulders Draco Glanced at his aunt, trying to hide the anger that simmered beaneath the surface. Slouching in his chair as if he hadn't a care in the world, Draco let his impassive mask fall into place.

"Oh you haven't heard Aunt Bella? She was a wedding gift from our lord, part of the faction we rounded up at Hogwarts. You wouldn't believe how ecstatic I was, She was the bushy-haired toe-rag that hung around Potter. Seems the Dark Lord thought highly of your suggestion. What better way to put a mudblood in their place then have them licking the bottom of your boots and scrubbing your loo!"

Bellatrix practically beamed proudly at him, it was a rather odd strained expression he had never seen before on the older witch. He didn't know how to feel about it, it made him feel exsposed, uncomfortable and also dirty all at the same time as a pit of guilt settled in his belly. Owning muggleborns wasn't a gift, It was wrong. _Where the fuck had that come from?_ Placing a finger to his chin Nott faked ignorant curiosity as his arm draped the back of his Aunt's chair.

" Hmm bushy-haired Mu- Oh you're talking about Granger. Say Weasley didn't you used to shag Granger?"

Ron looked positively ill, his face a sickly green, as his mouth kept opening and closing like a fish out of water. He struggled to offer a response. His fist's balled at his sides, prepared for a bare-knuckle brawl.

" I wasn't shagging her, I would never shag Herm-a mudblood...She was a know- it all. I let her fancy the idea I had a crush on her so she would keep doing my homework."

A slap rang out as Bellatrix slammed her palm down on the wooden surface of the table all traces of her earlier mirth gone. She looked almost rabid with her dark hair a chaotic mess, and her onyx eyes wild. She didn't need anymore spelling it out to guess what they were on about. Unlike the other high ranking Death Eaters, though fond of torture, Bella did not take sex with muggleborns casually. It was an offense to all her pure-blood senses to take pleasure from a mudblood when you had a perfect wife to bugger at home.

" So you're saying that the mudblood was smarter than you?... Tsk...I don't think you're being honest Weasley...In fact...yes...She was that mudblood you were begging me to let you take her place...hmm rather coincidental indeed that it took you so long.. Tell us Blood-traitor...Have you been down in that basement bollocks deep in mud-blood minge IN MY NEPHEW'S HOME!"

She was Shrieking towards the end, making the fucker quake in his cheap faux dragon hide boots, the trill of her voice drilling into his eardrums making Draco's ears bleed, and before he had time to react the bastard turned tail. He was fleeing, running as hard and fast as he could towards the front doors, his wand out by his side. His body was a blur of pumping limbs as he reached for the handle. He was going to try and Disapparate outside of the wards. Draco was up and moving in a flash, hot on his heels as a expert cast of Levicorpus flew past him and caught Ron mid-run.

The fool was yanked off his feet and flipped head over heels to dangle upside down. By the time he had reached him, Ron's face was an angry shade of scarlet as all the blood in his body rushed to pool in his empty head and he flailed his gangly arms, pleading incoherently as Bellatrix strode towards him, wand trained on him. She was entertaining murder, her teeth barred as an animalistic growl rumbled from her chest. She didn't need permission anymore to make the light leave his eyes and Draco knew she wouldn't ask. She was the highest-ranking death eater alive now, and she took personal offense to purebloods fucking half-bloods and mudbloods ever since her husband Rodolphus was caught cheating on her with a teenage half-blood that had been charged with the duty of being, her and their lord's illegitimate daughter, Delphini's nanny.

Draco wanted him to really suffer though. He deserved much more than a quick Avada! Balling up his fist, Draco reared back and punched him as hard as he could directly in his ugly freckled face, delighting in the cruching sound of his nose shattering against his knuckles. _Where was this rage coming from? _He hardly felt the pain in his hand even as it began to swell, it had been worth it. Glacing in his peripheral's he shouted as he caught Bellatrix's wand emiting an ominious glow that was the killing curse. He couldn't let him die just yet.

" WAIT, Aunt Bella, don't you think this matter should be taken up with the lord, this is more than just a filthy shag...He...he could have gotten her pregnant, you know what that means..that's an open act of rebellion...There could be more mudbloods he frequents the red light district, who knows how many of them could be mudbloods!"

Bellatrix didn't bother to even glance in his general direction as she waved her free hand in the air dismissively, but the glow from her wand died out. She looked unhappy that she couldn't just kill the rodent, but Draco had a fair point. Even if he knew Weasley wasn't capable of it, all plausable avenues had to be looked into. He had no reason, to join a rebellion at this point. Logically speaking he had everything he had ever wanted, a wife, kids, and money to spend without having to work for it.

"Yes, yes nephew I shall take him straight to our Lord, perhaps he might even be so gracious as to let you deliver his punishment. That might make you feel better yes? Come, Nott, we have the matter to attend to now."

Draco bit back a smart remark and instead muttered a quiet thank you to his Aunt, stepping quickly to open the door for her departure. She was as foul as they came , but it seemed lately she had been rather useful. He didn't care if he had to grovel at the dark lord's feet for the rights, he would be the one to to send the Weasle to hell, no one else! Scuttling along behind her Nott muttered "Accio" for their traveling robes, his urgency to Bellatrix's needs was one of the only reasons she kept him cozy by her side.

Draco had to respect the man's intelligence. If one wanted a promotion the fastest way was suckling at the teat of their Lord's favorite pet. Bellatrix gave a wave of her wand as she stepped through the threshold and the dangling idiot glided slowly behind her, his nose steadily leaking blood on his floors from being broken. Nott followed closely behind her, giving Draco a curt nod, his ocean blue orbs holding a bit of mischief as he called over his shoulder .

" What a wonderful meal Draco, we really must do this again sometime."

With that both His aunt and Nott linked arms, all three of the vanishing on the spot.

Draco stood there for a moment staring at the spot they had just stood, silently contemplating. He didn't understand why the knowledge that Weasley had been forcing himself on Granger bothered him so badly, but the haunted look she had given him when he had paid her a visit that very morning had shaken him a bit. Even without the mounting evidence, he had no doubt that she had been telling the truth. She was a mudblood, yes, but no one deserved that kind of betrayal. He had been her friend for almost a decade, even her boyfriend at one point.

She also belonged to him! As slytherin as he was, even Draco understood loyalty. How pathetic of a person would you have to be to do something as abhorant as that. He absolutely could not wait. Weasley would die a Traitors death, and Draco would be the one to stomp the life from his body. For she was his property, and you do not covet thy neighbors things...


	4. Chapter 4: One should never snoop

**(A/N): I'm terribly sorry for the chapter delay. I've had an awful time with my internet, but it's sorted now so I should be back to posting on a relatively normal basis. A big thank you for all those that have taken the time to review so far, you have all been awfully kind and supportive. The musical inspiration for this chapter is by Trivium- Wake (the end is nigh). Anyways enough dribble, on to the story!**

Silence had followed Malfoy's visit, both from him, and Ron, it seemed he had kept his word. Ron's visits had stopped abruptly, even the death eaters he had employed on the estate had seemingly vanished. The manor had become eerily silent. Not that silence bothered her, just without the normal bustle this large empty home could be quite lonesome and cold feeling. Without occupants, her chores had dwindled down to almost nothing, she still had Malfoy's private quarters and loo to look after, but the house elves she worked beside kept up with the dusting and cooking which left Hermione an awful amount of free time on her hands. Normally she might have considered that a blessing in itself, but she had come to rely on the back-breaking work to keep her mind occupied from the lurking amount of trauma she refused to deal with.

One couldn't dwell if you worked yourself to exhaustion. In its absence, there was nothing left to fill the void and she caught herself drowning in the memories. Had there been anyone left at the manor beside Malfoy to keep eyes on her, Hermione wouldn't have dared to wander about but lost in her own thoughts, her feet had begun carrying her from room to room. No real destination in mind. For once in a long, while the memories she found herself lost in were ones that made her soul feel a little less heavy, and brought a small smile that made her haggard face look a little less worn.

_Sprawled out, she lounged peacefully. The grass prickled her bare legs as the hot summer sun beat down from overhead and warmed her skin, darkening the dust of freckles across her dainty nose and cheeks. The sounds of raucous laughter and shouts of quidditch friendly at the Weasley's floated in the distance. An open copy of " " by Virginia Wolf laid parted across her budding chest as her fingers absently stroked the hardback cover. Hermione never could quite understand the appeal of hurtling at dangerous speeds on a flimsy piece of wood after a ball, but this...this was her heaven. she could still taste Mrs. Weasley's fresh-squeezed strawberry infused lemonade on her tongue, dancing a delicate ballet of tart and sweet on her pallet. She was somewhere between dozing when a girlish roar of smug victory pulled her from her sleepy lull and she sat up slowly to watch Ginny descend from the sky, her signature Weasley locks, wild around her like a fiery halo._

_She reminded her of the goddess Brighid with the tower of flames upon her head in all her feminine ferocity. Ginny Weasley was a force to behold. She smiled broadly at her friend. Even though she couldn't be bothered with the sport herself, she couldn't help but be feel a sense of pride for her younger friend. Making her way over to her, Ginny flopped down in the grass next to her, her pretty face flushed and sweaty as she grinned at Hermione. She watched as the pale beauty tugged off her worn leather gloves and deposited them on the ground as she sighed heavily, blowing a stray lock of her hair out of her hazel eyes. Her voice came out in a rasp, raw from having to yell over the rushing wind to be heard._

_" One day those idiots will learn to stop betting against me, Harry already owes me a new broom kit, and Ron has racked up three months worth of my chores."_

_Snorting with laughter Hermione marked her page between the aged pages, gently closed her novel with care and set it in her folded lap, forgotten for the moment. Her gaze fell on the retreating forms of her friends as they trudged to the kitchen to restock on the calories they had burned from trying their hardest to outmaneuver the ginger princess, shoulders slumped with exhausted defeat. Ginny had certainly run them into the dirt. Funny enough she didn't feel one ounce of pity for them._

_"That very male ego will be their downfall, you haven't lost a match to them since you were 11."_

_Ginny's grin was contagious as she followed her bushy-haired companions' line of sight, swiping the pooling sweat from her brow as she lingered on the familiar mop of unruly black hair trailing behind the rest at a slower pace. It was painfully obvious that Ginny would never grow out of her schoolgirl crush for Harry. She had to admit, as far as good matches went, Ginny could've done much worse. Harry was attractive, in a rugged messy way, not to mention she was the kindest person she had ever met especially for one that carried the weight of the world on their shoulders as he did. She gave Ginny a sly sideways glance._

_"I kind of enjoy their ego, it makes the victory so much sweeter to watch them crawl off to lick their wounds...plus, think of all the free time ill have on my hands not scrubbing the dishes or de-knombing the garden"_

_Hermione pressed a finger to her lips playfully, acting as if she were in deep thought although unable to hide her knowing smirk. Teasing the witch, she hummed softly, her finger giving a light tap-tap against them as she turned to penetrate the redhead with a look, a mischevious glint in her swirling chocolate-colored depths._

_"Hmmm.. yes all the free time in the world, for secret snogs and heavy petting with boys that are tragically brody and have startling green eyes."_

_Blushing from her toes all the way up to her ears, Ginny watched as Harry disappeared from view into the house, embarrassed that she had not been quite as discreet as she thought she had been. Not that she had been trying to keep secrets from her best friend, but she had been wary of her brothers finding out that she and Harry had taken things to the next level. Pouting, Ginny gave a playful scowl._

_" Too bad I'm stealing all your precious time for secret snogging and heavy petting with boys that are tragically stupid and have the emotional range of a teaspoon"_

_Ginny offered her a wink, and Hermione barked with a sudden fit of laughter, her eyes watering as she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Curling her arms around her middle, she fell back into the grass, staring up at the white fluffy clouds as she composed herself. It felt good to laugh that hard, and she briefly wondered how many more carefree days they would have like this_.

Her memories of that last summer at the Weasley's that had been unburdened by the shit show that was to come was bitter-sweet. It made her chest ache to remember how in love and full of life they had all been, how innocent they the moment of silent contemplation her mind drifted briefly to the blond. He had, as she had expected, from the beginning been hard, and unforgiving with his expectations, but as long as she kept to her duties and maintained a flawless execution of them, he left her be. She had expected unnessicary cruelty. That he would go out of his way to torment her. Much to her surprise, outside of her chores, he had ignored her altogether. Hermione supposed that Malfoy's new blushing bride, Astoria, had a lot to do with the man he had grown into vs the evil little ferret she had known in adolescence.

The whole situation was rather sad if she were honest. Hermione hated to admit it, but if it hadn't been for him and Astoria's betrothal she would have suffered the same fate as the rest of the resistance, strung up for Fenire and his pack to shred apart piece by piece. She felt a certain amount of guilt that she had escaped that torment whereas her surviving friends hadn't been so lucky. A certain amount of guilt, that she had felt a small amount of relief. She couldn't dwell on that though, she had no control over the situation. If she were really honest, Astoria had been rather lovely. She had been, as any true Slytherin was, cunning and ambitious, but she had also been warm and kind, Gliding around in her pretty gowns that gave her the appearance of floating. She understood why Malfoy had fallen so completely in love with the petite witch, she had been the warmth that filled up this cold home and made it livable, she had been the calm to his storm. Even Hermione had been giddy with excitement when the couple had announced the growing addition to their family. She didn't mind that she would most likely be a live-in nanny on top of her other duties, changing dirty nappies was nothing really if she got to coddle a sweet little babe and hold his tiny little hand as she rocked him to sleep or read him stories.

Fate had been a cruel mistress, however. no matter what she had instructed the elves to fix for Astoria, hearty meals, rich with healthy fats and vitamins, she had whittled away to nothing. Her bones had become brittle and her porcelain skin bruised with the gentlest touch. Hermione had even brewed the most advanced potions she could for morning sickness to help her mistress retain the nutrition her body desperately needed. Nothing had worked. Hermione had dreamed often about how beautiful their little bundle of joy would have been, a perfect combination of Malfoy's white-blond locks, rosy skin, and Astoria's soft features. He had been just as she had imagined, except instead of rosy cheeks he had been born grey, without the flush of life. Her heart had broken for Malfoy. Long after the medi witch had left Hermione took great care to change the bloody sheets without disturbing the peaceful looking witch, and dressed her in one one of her finest robes, before tucking her baby in her arms as if they were both merely sleeping. it had soothed some of her own grief to care for them one last time.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione's feet had carried her all the way downstairs and into the dining room, where obnoxious high pitched giggles floated from the adjoining tea room and startled her from her daze. Hermione wasn't one for eve's dropping, but she couldn't help but be curious as to who the giggles belonged to. Like a shadow, she pressed herself to the wall out of sight, slowly inching her way to the open doorway, her ears strained to the conversation at hand

"Mrs.'s Macdougal...as flattered and honored I am that you've considered me a match for your daughter Morag's hand in marriage...As you know.. I've only just lost my wife and son to childbirth... I'm not sure at this ti- " "Oh nonsense Mr. Malfoy, this is a perfect time to consider a new match, Morag would be the perfect young lady to not only soothe your grief but honor your family with a...living heir.."

Hermione flinched at the dig to Astoria, these women were ruthless. Rage rolled through her and settled in her stomach for this woman, and she bit down on the soft flesh on her lip trying to keep her presence hidden, how dare that evil cow to speak so callously! Malfoy may have been the most loathsome little cockroach she had ever had the displeasure of meeting, but Astoria was a far better woman then Morag, who in her opinion was just as dull, dimwitted and hideous as a fully grown mountain troll.

" Forgive my nephew Dormida, this has been a rather stressful time for him what with the late Mrs. Malfoy's failure.. and discovering a traitor in our ranks..."

A cold chill rolled down her spine. She would have recognized that voice from anywhere...Bellatrix..the hateful bitch! She was if possible worse then Voldemort in her opinion, just her voice made Hermione feel violently ill. She found her fingers trailing up her the sleeve of her left arm to rub over the raised skin there. Sometimes it would itch and burn as if the wound were still fresh. It had to be part of the dark magic intertwined with the cursed blade. A scar that would never fully heal or fade. She made herself scarce whenever Bellatrix was at the manor, only leaving her cellar if she absolutely had to and even then she took great caution to avoid the monster of a woman.

" We shall give your proposal a great deal of consideration, but as you are aware my dear Draco is a rather well saught after match for many young witches... In the meantime how about we schedule a luncheon between us girls and my nephew and go over some of the finer details before we make a decesion.."  
" Oh of course dear. The tea was lovely, I shall wait eagerly for your owl Mrs's Lestrange, and Mr. Malfoy"

Hermione recoiled from the wall in a panic as she heard chair legs scraping against the wooden floors. If she was caught snooping, especially by Bellatrix, she would be worse then dead. Scrambling, she sprinted as quietly as she could, trying to keep her footfalls as silent and stealthy, her heart pounding out of her chest with fear. She couldn't hear anything other than the rush of blood in her ears. Spotting a nearby nook, she managed to squeeze her small body behind an ancient suit of armor as footsteps followed close behind her sudden retreat. She waited with bated breath, hoping she hadn't made any noise. They seemed to be in no hurry, and Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief that she hadn't been noticed. Malfoy's voice carried just a few feet from in front of where she stood hidden making her nervously shrink as close to the wall as she could get, her ears still trained on the conversation at hand.

" Oh, by the way, Mrs. Macdougal, please give Morag my thanks for her package of pastries, and my well wishes, we will be in touch soon"

Although polite, Malfoy's voiced sounded strained now as he spoke, his disgust barely veiled as he addressed his unwanted guest. She couldn't blame him, she would have been beyond furious if she were him. She didn't understand an Aristocratic society. For people who cared so much about pure bloodlines and procreating for the sake of carrying on the family legacy, they lacked any sort of affection for their offspring or the people they had them with. There was no such thing as empathy among the elite, especially now, you either did as duty commanded or you were marked as a stain, a weakness that needed to be weeded out.

"Of course my lord, thank you for replying to my owl so soon, hopefully, the next time we meet it will be with wedding bells in mind"

Without pause, the front door opened with heavy protest. Malfoy was in no mood to allow Mrs. Macdougal to linger any longer. She was quite sure if she opened her mouth again, he would hex her saggy tits right off her chest. Hermione shivered as all the warmth around her was sucked out the front entrance, and she felt a bit of her panic subside as the horrid shrill of the elder woman's voice called her final goodbyes. Her greedy eyes lingered on the blond adonis of a man as if he were a piece of meat and Bellatrix followed behind her, pausing to give Malfoy a last word. She whispered quietly, though still managing to put a sever amount of venom in her words.

"Draco... the next time we have tea with one of your proposals, either you shut your fucking trap or you try a little harder to suck up this sappy nonsense about Astoria, you will not embarrass this family, is that clear!?"

Hermione felt another ache in her heart, how could someone be raised by people like this and not turn out to be a monster? She could almost feel sorry for him. Malfoy's teeth ground against each other, his jaw clenched tight as he swallowed his temper. His hands although hidden behind his back, clenched and unclenched into fists, itching to lash out. He stood rigid, the muscles in his shoulders tight with strain even though his face remained passive. He almost looked bored but his eyes were murderous. His knuckles had turned bone white with the force in which he was squeezing his fist as he drawled out calmly.

" Of course Aunt, do take care"

The door slammed shut suddenly in what she supposed was Bellatrix's face with force, the frame giving a violent shake. A weary sigh heaved from the blond's lips, his long slender fingers brushing through his silky tresses. It had gone silent as a tomb other than his ragged breaths. He didn't move for a while, simply sanding there boring holes into the wooden door where his Aunt had just stood. He looked manic, his eyes wild, cheeks tinged pink with anger as his wand hand trembled at his side, and Hermione swallowed. It was frightening to see him look so human, his emotions out in the open on display.

"It's awfully rude to eve's drop Granger, yet it's almost as if you have a death wish lately..."

Startled, Hermione stumbled out from behind the armor clumsily, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment from having been caught after all. Her body gave a tremble as she wiped her sweaty hands over the fabric of her dress, something that had become a habit as of late whenever she was nervous. She hated that she had become such a wimp... a cowering spineless wimp. What little Griffindor pride she had left hidden in her heart was dying a slow shameful death. Trying to hide the quiver in her voice, she lifted her chin proudly, mustering the little courage she had to meet his eye.

" I..I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to spy...I heard your aunt's voice and I was trying to stay out of her sight, you know how she feels about mud-blood servants. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your company with my presence."

A lie, a rather obvious lie in fact. Yet she had the good conscious to look down humbly trying to appear as nothing but his obedient servant, not the snotty little know-it-all she still was underneath her subservient facade. So far Hermione had managed in her entire time at the manor not to directly anger Malfoy, but as his head whipped around to stare at her, she clamped her mouth shut so hard her teeth rattled in her look that he penetrated her with was downright scary, the sneer he hadn't used on her since Hogwarts, curled at his lips making him look vicious and the energy around him crackled with unbridled fury. Her little white lie had snapped the little restraint Malfoy had holding back all the raw anger, and Hermione dropped to her knees. Her body went rigid, placing her palms flat down on the hardwood as she made herself as small as possible. His feet were heavy as he rounded on her, his voice conveying a deadly calm as he spoke.

" Don't you dare insult my intelligence you fucking Cunt. You may be a little broken, but don't forget I know who you really are! If I ever catch you snooping around, spying on my conversations again. I can swear to you with the very darkest part of my heart, that I will fuck you bloody and then peel your skin from your muscles piece by piece until you beg me to Avada you. If you think im bluffing just try me...I've had enough of you conniving lying bitches to last me a lifetime."

Tears stung in her eyes, she had no doubt of Malfoy's sincerity. He was teetering a fine line of losing himself completely, she could feel it in her soul. She remained still, letting her stinging eyes drift closed. She knew better than to be this careless. He paused his rant to squat down in front of her, his breath ghosting across her face. Hermione flinched as he reached out gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger, tugging her face upwards almost gently. She couldn't help but notice how unusually rough they felt against her skin, for someone who had never known a day's worth of hard work. This was the second time recently that he had willingly touched her, and she hated that it wasn't altogether unpleasant. His tone took on a gruff pitch as he spoke again as if he were struggling with some internal thoughts.

"look at me Granger, I want to be sure you're listening when I tell you this..."

Fluttering her lids open she met his gaze head-on. Her dark lashes were impossibly long, framing her wide doe eyes that reminded Draco of warm hot chocolate. She watched as a strange emotion flickered in his own silver pools again for a moment before it disappeared again. Leaning down close to her face to where he was merely a few inches from her, his warm breath tickled her cheeks. She could smell the rich earl grey tea he had been drinking earlier, and she felt a strange flutter in her belly at his close proximity and how warm he felt against her skin. He whispered now as if he were a lover, a heady sultry tone that did not match the words that flowed from his full pink lips.

" I'm not sure what kind of ideas you've had lately crawling around under that rat's nest, but let me be perfectly transparent. I do not give a single fuck about you... you are nothing. The only people I have ever cared about are rotting in the ground, and the only reason I have tolerated the trouble you have been causing is that I don't have the energy in me to worry about your bullshit. This is your one and only warning, If I glimpse your bushy head anywhere that you are not supposed to be again. I will not hesitate to cut you down. Do you understand me?

Despite the warmth, she had felt just moments before, Hermione's teeth chattered as a cold empty feeling replaced it in her knew everything he said was true, and yet it hurt a part of her to hear it out loud. She couldn't tell if she was feeling awful from his threats or the fact that she had disappointed him, which was insane. How could she have felt anything but hatred for the man who held her captive in squaler...but hadn't he been kind as well? Hermione forced her head to bob that she understood him, her voice squeaking out like a terrified mouse.

" I understand sir, It will never happen again"

With that, his hand fell away from her chin and she watched as he rose to his full height, his eyes swirling as all the anger seemed to deflate from him, leaving him looking haunted and stretched thin. He continued to study her for a moment before he seemed to catch himself. Striding right past her, he resembled his godfather, as he menacingly swept from the room like a giant black bat, his expensive robes billowing behind his wake. Collecting herself, Hermione decided it was best to stay out of his way and she slowly made her way to the staircase to her cellar. Her nerves were shot. It left her feeling exhausted and confused. Finding her way to her makeshift bed, she deposited herself on the scratchy straw ungracefully and curled into herself, drifting off to a night of restless sleep, ignoring the hunger pains that ate away at her.


	5. Chapter 5:Whiskey dreams

**(A/N) I apologize in advance if my chapter lengths seem inconsistent, the first two are rather short in comparison, but I rather like my chapters to be a little lengthy so here we are. Also if these chapters seem a little less heavy, I was trying to give you guys a brief reprive of the heavy loads of trauma I was dumping on you right from the start. If you're all wondering "What happened to Ron?" don't worry ill get back to abusing him in due time. Also If you are a regular to this fic, I have gone back and done some editing of the previous chapters. The parts in Italics are flashbacks.**  
**this chapter was inspired by the song ZAYN- good years**

Draco wasn't quite sure what had come over him that afternoon. First, he snubbed his nose at his duties. Followed by simultaneously challenging the one person standing between him and the dark lord's wrath. He knew what it was first hand to question any authority that was over him and had watched as everything in his life that mattered is swept away in the blink of an eye. Studying the untouched food that lay on the small table in front of him, he twirled the amber liquid in his tumbler before lifting it to his lips and draining its contents in one heavy gulp.

It was a slow burn that had become accustomed to, and he relished the heat that filled his empty stomach. It dulled his senses, but it couldn't take away the weight that felt like a dragon was sitting on his chest. He could hardly remember what it felt like to take a full breath. What Granger had done earlier had been dangerous and stupid, not just for her but for the both of them. How would it look to have a mud-blood freely wandering about his home, unsupervised, much less snooping in on conversations?

It made him not only appear weak but it also implicated rebellion. The same rebellion they were trying to snuff out. She didn't fully understand, that this world wasn't safe for anybody. The only thing that separated the two was blood supremacy, and even that meant nothing if you weren't showing loyalty for the winning side. Reaching for his decanter of Ogden's finest, Draco poured himself another two fingers, savoring another sip as his digits clumsily worked the top two buttons of his oxford.

What bothered him the most hadn't been Granger at all really and he knew it. It was the way they had spoken about Astoria as if she were a failure for giving her life to bring their child into this world. It made him furious, and it made his heart sing with the grief he was desperate to push down. Loving her had been the only sunshine left in this dark world. It had been a sweet lie, their happily-ever-after. Their lives were nothing but a fucking tragedy, how could it be anything but.

They handed over their entire fate into the hands of a soulless monster and pretended he was some sort of savior. He had been living in this haze, and without her, he was forced to wake up. To see things as they really were, and he wasn't sure he could keep living this way. The glass in hand vibrated with the wild energy that coursed through his body, concentrating in his fingertips, demanding release. Instead of a release, he brought his tumbler once again to his lips and drained the  
contents.

He was good and drunk at this point but he couldn't seem to quiet the voices tonight, no matter how much he drank. His thoughts turned to the muggle-born witch in his cellar, how she had coward at his feet. At one point in his youth, he would've been ecstatic at the thought, but now it only made him feel sick. She had been so fearless, so infuriating with her wild hair, smart mouth and one hell of a right hook. There was no one in this world that could tell Hermione Granger she couldn't do something.

To see her so reduced brought about the feelings of shame of which he had never felt the likes of before. For one insane moment, he wished he could explain. To tell her he hadn't meant for this to all to have gone the way that it had. That he realized if he had stopped being a spineless coward and actually done something even if it had meant his death,  
maybe Potter might have pulled through and they wouldn't be in this mess. The day he had stumbled across Granger after the war would haunt him until his death.

The older order members had been quickly done away with, but the ones their age, he supposed were still influenceable. People like Ron and Ginny Weasley. They had been rounded up and taken to a new location to be broken and reconditioned. The muggle-borns and half-bloods though... A good portion of them had been locked in cages, the ones that had been brave enough not to flee anyways. Most of them had been children. Their dirty faces peering up at him between the bars, eyes pleading for any kind of mercy.

_His hand placed gently on the small of his wife's back, Draco gently guided the pretty young witch through the throng of people that had gathered by the different cages on display. The Dark lord trailed proudly in front of them with his Aunt just behind at a respectful distance. He could feel the tension in Astoria's body, she was horrified, although to his relief her feelings were well masked behind the image of a perfect pure-blooded wife. Leaning down to her Draco brushed his lips across the cusp of her ear as if he were merely just a new husband eagerly enthralled with his blushing bride at his side. " Don't look at them darling, there is nothing we can do." He whispered to her._

_He did his best to soothe her, but he caught the moisture that brimmed in her eyes when she glanced up at him. Her small hands rose to squeeze at the clasp to her cloak that lay across her chest as if it were an anchor. He hated that she had to see this, to be exposed to all this ugliness. She didn't reply and he could tell it was because she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice by the way her pale fingers were shaking. The Dark Lord stopped and turned to face them his arms outstretched in invitation as his red snake-like eyes fell on him._

_"Young Lord Malfoy, I am pleased to see how well you have risen to meet my demands. As first of my loyal followers to marry, I bestow on you and the new Lady Malfoy a wedding gift. At first, I was quite unsure what to do with it you see for nothing seemed quite suitable for the punishment deserved, and then your dear aunt mentioned your history with it." The evil bastard hissed at them. His face void of any emotion._

_Giving a snap of his fingers, the dark Lord held his gaze. It was like staring into hell itself. Full of misery and death. It made Draco's skin crawl. He knew The dark lord was searching for a reaction, pausing to sniff out any weakness that he had. _

_To the right of him, Draco caught movement as a follower know as Rookwood, lifted a dirty scrap of cloth that had been draped over a cage, hiding its occupants from view. The cage gave a rattle as he squeezed his hulking frame through the door and gave a yank to the restrained body inside. What tumbled out made Draco's throat seize mid swallow. He couldn't see her face hidden beneath the mass of tangled wild curls, but as he shifted his gaze to her, he didn't need to, to know who she was. Granger stood before him although he wasn't sure she was present as she swayed gently on her bare feet._

_ She was wisely silent, head cast downward as her arms hung shackled and limp in front of her. Beside him, Astoria reached for his hand gripping it and squeezing it as she covered for his shocked silence. The smile she wore was one of immense joy as she addressed the monster in front of them. Her face so carefully constructed that one would mistake the tears in her eyes as gratitude. "My Lord, you honor us! What a wonderful wedding gift, it seems my husband is overcome by your generosity. We are deeply humbled by your gift, I'm quite positive my dear Draco can find a suitable use for her that of which she is deserving." She said, carefully._

_Giving a curt nod, Draco attempted to swallow again only to find his mouth had gone as dry as the Atacama desert. His gaze kept wandering to the muggle-born in front of him and for once in his life, he had no words for the amount of agony his soul was in. The depravity of it all, gifting a human being as if she were no more then a chair. The grip in which Astoria was squeezing his hand was cutting off circulation to his fingers. Coughing gently to cover his embarrassment, he returned a reassuring squeeze to her hand and recovered._

_ " Ah yes, it seems Lady Malfoy stole the words right out of my mouth. Thank you, my Lord, you humble us with your gift. My dear Aunt is correct me and the mud-blood have had a rather turbulent co-existence. It will bring me great pleasure to put it in its proper place." He followed smoothly. A cruel smile curled at the monster's thin lips, seemingly pleased with himself as he regarded the newly-weds. _

_He was using them as an example, to prove that he did indeed reward loyalty. Though it was a farce. His gift wasn't a gift it was another task in which he expected Draco to complete. He was supposed to break her, mind body and soul. It was the only punishment the Dark Lord would accept for her involvement of having aided potter. _

_As he turned away from the couple, Draco knew when he was being dismissed. Instructing Rookwood to have Granger delivered, he gathered Astoria in his arms tightly and whisked her back to the manor, far away from the nightmare they had found themselves in._

Seeing his fantasies brought to life in front of his eyes, It was much different. Nothing could have prepared him for the things he had seen or the emotions it brought to the surface. It was a hard pill to swallow that his fantasies had been groomed by childish anger and a false sense of entitlement. That the real thing had brought absolutely no joy at all. It was another series of images that kept him up all night, wallowing in self-hatred and guilt.

Pulling himself up to stand on unsteady legs, Draco set his tumbler down next to his untouched plate. He couldn't stand to be alone right now, and before he knew it, he was winding his way down his grand staircase. In search of the only other person in the manor. At this moment he had never felt so alone in his life. Even in this expansive manor, the walls seemed claustrophobic, closing in around him.

His body felt boneless and numb as he crossed the dining hall, his legs set on autopilot. The noise in his head had dwindled to a murmur by the time he reached the door to the cellar, and without hesitation, he turned the handle and crossed the threshold. Descending the stairs, he leaned against the railing heavily due to his permanently injured leg, wincing as the wood creaked and groaned offensively in protest to his weight. It wasn't until he was looming over her prone sleeping form that he realized what he was doing but by then it was too late, she was already stirring. Draco silently cursed his limp as she uncurled herself from the ball she had turned herself into, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to peer up at him with a worried stare, and he wondered if he looked as unhinged as he felt.

All the words he had wanted to say, the ones that had danced around on his tongue fighting for an escape had died, and he was left uncharacteristically devoid."Granger..." The voice he croaked out with was foreign to his ears. He sounded like absolute shit. Running his hand over his stubbled jaw, he tried to clear the fog that had settled in his  
brain.

His throat was raw and the alcohol in his stomach gave a dangerous roll as she blinked up at him. Half stunned and confused from being awoken in the middle of the night. He tried again as she sat up slowly. "I...Are you hungry? I realize it's late, but uh...I wasn't very hungry... I'd hate for it to go to waste...would you care to join me upstairs for a bite?"

Wonderful, he sounded like a lunatic. He had lost his fucking mind. Draco swallowed thickly, the action seeming harder than it was. His tongue was heavy in his mouth like it had turned into a block of lead. The confusion on her face doubled and she looked as though she wanted to object, but seemed to think better of it. He didn't like how wary she was of him and he felt a flush of shame again as heat lit up his cheeks.

Giving him a simple nod, he silently thanked whatever part of her that was still somewhat trusting of him. He knew he reeked of alcohol and his disheveled appearance was doing him no favors. To ease a few of her worries he quickly added. " Don't worry if I was going to hack you off, I wouldn't bother with some elaborate scheme."He tried to offer her an easy smile, but somehow it came out in a pained grimace of sorts as if the muscles in his face had forgotten how to.

He could tell her guard was still up as she stared. Moving to get up, without thinking his hand reached out in a gentlemanly offer to assist her. She took it without hesitation though she stared at his limb as though it had grown into a tentacle. She whispered as she retracted her hand from his quickly as thought the contact hed burned her."After you my lord..." She said quietly

Draco's insides squeezed painfully, she was afraid to say no. "Granger...you can tell me no, I just thought... This was stupid I shouldn't have come down her-" she cut him off mid-sentence."-Malfoy! It's fine, I am pretty hungry. I was feeling rather tired so I went to bed without supper."

As if to support her statement, Granger's stomach gave a loud impatient growl. He knew she was indulging him, but he supposed it wasn't a lie. His eyes shifted to the staircase for a moment, the proper pure-blooded male in him fighting for control as his hand twitched by his side. He fought the urge to lift it in offering for her to go first and instead turned on his heel to begin the uncomfortable trek back up the rickety stairs he had almost tumbled down just moments earlier. He took his time going up, refusing to lean much of his weight on the railing as to not appear weak, and thus by the time he had reached the top of the stairs, he was sweaty and flushed.

Draco could feel her gaze on the back of him and he internally groaned. he had no idea what was going on in that brain of hers, but he knew he was a mess, both figuratively and literally at

the present. What's more, he profusely wanted to apologize for how he was acting not just for now but how he had let his anger lash out at her earlier. Never in his wildest fantasies had he ever imagined that he, Draco Malfoy, would want to apologize to muggle-born witch trudging quietly behind him. There was no way she didn't notice how strangely he was behaving but she lacked the courage these days to say, or inquire much about anything.

Sadly her spirit had been the one thing that he had always secretly respected. No matter how off-putting she was.`In fact at one point in time if he hadn't known her blood status Draco might have fancied her impressive, he would even venture to say she was shag- NO! There was absolutely no way in hell, he was about to entertain that errant offensive thought! Bitting down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, he let out a pained grunt as he carried on, refusing to glance behind himself, not that he needed to.

He could feel the warmth of her body against his back as she trailed closer to him, and it made his stomach do an odd flip. What in the fuck? He silently promised himself he would never drink like this again after tonight. Winding his way up the grand staircase and down the west wing, Draco pushed open the door to his study and stepped inside waiting for her to join him. Although he wasn't out of shape, his leg had begun to throb from the many trips up and down the stairs he had performed that evening.

He casually limped over to where he had been sitting, his empty tumbler gleaming in the firelight invitingly. He had just promised himself no more, but no more could begin tomorrow after he had finished the bottle and continued to embarrass himself.  
Pulling his wand from the holster at his side, he gave it a flourish in the direction of the plush rug next to his table. A soft glow emanated as he transfigured it into a chair for her to use. Granger stood by the doorway watching him for a moment before she hesitantly approached the chair he had conjured, and settled herself down in the plush cushion eyeing it as if it might burst into flames.

He could see the millions of questions she had flittering across her face. He wondered for a moment if he was glimpsing a piece of the old Granger, the part that was insufferably curious. He wanted to tell her to just say it, to probe him until her heart was content. She needed answers and he was dying to unload until he was empty, but he wasn't ready to face what she may ask. what left did he have to lose though?

He had already lost everyone else. The worst that could happen is that she would really SEE him. Tilting his head to the side, he studied her as he gently reached out to push his untouched plate of food in front of her. Without much thought, he reached for his decanter and empty tumbler, giving it another fill. Her face morphed into an expression of concern at his action, her lips turning down into a frown as her impossibly large eyes glittered with a hint of sadness.

Yep, the night just kept getting better. Here she was, feeling sorry for HIM when if it hadn't been for his moping around Weasley would have never gotten away with brutally raping her. He hadn't been paying enough attention to the people moving about his home and because of that he had allowed things to happen to her that was unforgivable.  
"Malfoy, are you sure that's a good idea? You seem to have a good bit already...look I...I know things have been hard f-for all of us, but drinking won't help you forget or heal." she muttered to him quietly.

"Look, Granger, I didn't bring you up here to be lectured or mothered. I'm not a part of what used to be your precious idiot twosome that needs saving every five minutes. Just eat the god-damned food." He replied through gritted teeth. He wanted to sound angry but his retort just sounded tired, and he sighed heavily before taking a drink.

She looked like she wanted to reach over and wring his neck but instead opted for snatching up her cutlery. Gripping them in both fists, she glared at him before stabbing a piece of roasted chicken breast. Bringing the piece to her mouth she paused, her fork hovering  
by her lips as a spark of the old Granger had her glowering at him.  
" I'm not trying to lecture you or mother you Malfoy." Her voice had dropped as she spoke carefully, the words soft and yet pained." I just know Astoria and your mother wouldn't want to see you living like this."

At that Draco's temper flared to life like fiendfyre, coursing through his entire body. Slamming his glass down on the tabletop, he growled as the glass shattered under his hand. He barely felt the sting as pieces stabbed into his palm, and blood started to steadily drip from the wound. He was briefly aware he was standing now to tower over her as she cowered in her seat. Though scared her eyes continued to hold his in a defiant standoff.

"You don't know the first fucking thing about what they would want for me, suddenly you think just because you spend a few months here that you know them? know Me? Fuck you mudblood!"He spat. He was so  
angry he was choking on it.

"I don't need to know anything about them Malfoy. Anyone with two eyes and an ounce of common sense could have seen how much they loved you. I find it hard to believe that either Lady Malfoy would tolerate this behavior of drunken self-destruction. You look like walking death and smell like a brewery." She replied almost matter of factly.

At that, the little swot studied herself sitting back up in her chair. Her knife and fork were poised in her grip. A bit of chicken still clinging to the prongs, and she held a look that screamed she wouldn't hesitate to jab one or both into his jugular if he made any threatening moves towards her. Draco was still furious, though he knew she was right, he didn't need this bossy know-it-all telling him what was best for him. This had been a mistake, he knew it was a mistake before he had even left his study to find her.

His legs felt unsteady as they supported him, and he let his hands  
rest on the tabletop, steadying him as he bit back some of his anger.  
"I don't have the energy to verbally spar with you, Granger. I just thought you might enjoy a hot meal and a bit of easy conversation." He said, sounding exhausted." A bit of easy conversation? We have never so much as even uttered a pleasant word to each other in the entire time we have known each other, what part of this do you expect to be an  
easy conversation?" She hissed.

Taking a deep breath, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently to stem the rapidly forming headache that came along with dealing with the swot seated in front of him.  
"Listen as relieved as I am to see that you've resurrected some of your old Gryffindork spunk. I'm going to force-feed that piece of chicken on your fork down your throat until you choke if you don't untwist your knickers." He said. Hermione let out a little angry puff of air and Draco knew she was fighting herself to not continue to argue with him.

Bitting into the chicken on her fork, she let her chocolate gaze bore into him as she masticated it slowly. Opening her mouth to speak again. " You want to know what I think?" She said."Not particularly." He replied shortly.

Which wasn't a lie considering how the conversation had been going thus far. Setting her fork down on her plate with a clatter, she folded her hands in her lap, and continued, ignoring his jib. " I think, you're drunk and feeling guilty. So you decided to round up your resident mud-blood in the middle of the night to feed her your leftovers to ease your conscious so you can get a night's sleep. This isn't about me, it's about you." she said with the same matter of fact tone as before.

She wasn't wrong. The guilt was eating him alive. He flinched at her self deprecating use of mudblood, his gaze casting down to stare at the wooden table as he avoided meeting hers. That word sounded wrong coming from her mouth. "Don't call yourself that..." He said softly.

"Call myself wh- what are you going on about? It's what I am innit' Malfoy? You and everyone else have seen fit to call me that every single day what's the difference?" She replied. The anger in her seemed to deflate into sadness as she spoke, her entire body giving a light tremble as she twisted her fingers in her lap.

Another wave of guilt assaulted him, and Draco kept his eyes on the tabletop as he lowered himself back down into his seat. "We're Death Eaters Granger. Our whole thing is blood supremacy. Of course, we call you a mudblood. It doesn't mean you should call yourself that." He replied just as softly as before.

All the steam from his previous anger seemed to be running out. He needed another drink. Gesturing to the mostly untouched plate, he finished. " Please eat before it gets cold Granger. I know you're hungry I can hear your stomach from here."

She didn't reply this time though. By the flush of her cheeks though he knew this conversation was not over yet. However, she picked her utensils up again and tucked in like she hadn't eaten a proper meal in years. Every bit she took was followed by a quiet hum of delight, and he watched her with quiet interest. Giving a wave of his wand he repaired his shattered glass and poured himself another drink, nursing this one as her soft noises did pleasurable things to his insides.

She ate every bite on the plate and even used her last bit of dinner roll to mop up the remaining juices. Popping the last bit into her mouth, she let out a deep groan of satisfaction. The heat from his fire had abated some of the pallors of her skin, and for a moment Granger looked as she had back at Hogwarts. Rosy-cheeked and full of life. It eased some small part of his guilt though not much.

He could have done more. Should have done more. He couldn't save all the muggle-borns from the vicious atrocities committed at the hands of other Death Eaters, but he did have one to look after and thus far he had done a shite job at it. He wasn't sure he had ever had it in him to be the Death Eater he portrayed himself as. He was a murderer, but it had never sat right with him.

Murder and torture was not something that came easy to him. He wasn't even sure he believed the same blood superiority he had grown up with. Draco took a sip of his drink, trying to quell his thoughts again before gesturing to his half-empty decanter. " Fancy a nightcap Granger? Might help you fall back asleep."He drawled out.

Glancing up from her full, sleepy stupor, she stared at the intricate glass before giving a lethargic shake of her head." No thanks. I've never been much of a drinker." She said primly. He wasn't about to take no for an answer.

Lazily he transfigured her fork into a matching tumbler and pinned her with a pathetic look. " C'mon st. goody-two-shoes, don't make me drink alone." He replied, his voice ladened with her eyes at him, the bushy-haired swot leaned forward, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm as she sighed defeatedly. " You shouldn't be drinking anymore period, but fine. Just one though. I've only ever tried champagne, and after two glasses I ended up toppling into a fountain at Bill, and Fleur Weasley's wedding." she admitted, a  
bit embarrassed.

Snorting with laughter, he leaned over to pour her a generous glass of whiskey, his face cracking into an easy smile. It had been so long the action felt strange on his face, though not unpleasant. " You would be a light-weight." He replied, with amusement. She rolled her eyes again, though her small smile tugged at her lips." Oh, buggar off Malfoy."

Reaching out, she took the glass from him, and before he had time to warn her, she brought it to her lips and took a heavy drink. Draco watched as a range of different expressions exploded on her face. Hermione shook her head as though she didn't want to swallow but then in one solid gulp she took it down and opened her mouth letting out a wheezing cough. " Ugh! Merlin's saggy balls, that's disgusting!" She sputtered out.

Trying to hold back his guffawing, Draco choked." It-It's not that bad, you just lack the refined pallet that is required to fully appreciate this caliber of fine whiskey." He gasped out between fits of laughter. Her nose wrinkled cutely as she eyeballed the remaining liquid in her glass with a disgusted frown. " Refined my arse. More like an alcoholic pallet. It tastes like drinking barrel flavored petrol." She retorted.

Draco winked at her cheekily, downing the rest of his drink ."Well, it is barrel-aged whiskey, swot. This is a man's drink, not some fruity number at cocktail hour." He rasped out. He felt pleasantly numb now, his voice noticeably lower and husky.

He knew he was going to feel like absolute shit in the morning, drinking heavily on an empty stomach, but at this moment he felt better then he had in a while. Shooting him a playful glare, Granger steeled herself and finished her drink in one gulp. She was a brave little lioness, he would give her that. She handled it much better than the last gulp and Draco was silently impressed. Perhaps he had found himself a new drinking partner.

Setting her glass down gently in front of him, she waved him off as he gestured to pour her another. "No really Malfoy, one is plenty. I'm already feeling tingly." There was no way she was already buzzed. He thought, but the rosy hue filling her cheeks told him otherwise. It was almost precious.

Sighing heavily, Draco supposed it was time for him to call it a night anyway. He could barely stand unassisted. Running his fingers through his hair, he pushed his platinum locks away from his heated face. " Alright there Granger, I trust you don't need me to find your way back to bed. Id escort you but honestly, I don't think I can manage another round-up and down two flights of stairs." He said.

Glancing down at his bad leg, she had a flash of pity across her face which both embarrassed and angered him. He hated that his weakness was so obvious. She wasn't trying to offend him, but it ruffled his feathers. Besides being pissed off his arse, his leg really couldn't withstand another round of stairs much less two both ways. Underneath the alcohol, he could feel the familiar ache creeping in from the first round.

The whiskey would only dull it for so long. He remained seated as Granger rose from the soft cushioned chair he had transfigured, giving him a modest smile as she ducked her head down shyly. " Thank you for dinner Malfoy, and the 'easy conversation.'" she spoke softly, but Draco could hear the mild amusement in her voice as she teased him. The night was ending on a pleasant note that neither one of them had expected.

It was almost a shame that it was ending so soon. He nodded at her thanks, even though she hadn't needed to thank him for a single thing. " Don't thank me, Granger, you were correct, it was a purely self-motivated invitation." He said quietly. He tried to keep his tone light, even as his loneliness had started to creep in.

She hadn't even departed yet and already he felt her warmth leaving the room."Well, whatever your reasons were ." She stated, insistently. " It was delicious, so thank you." Her voice was kind, soothing to his torrent of emotions.

He didn't deserve her misplaced kindness. Blinking slowly as his mind raced to respond, he croaked out in a softer tone then he was used to using ." You're Welcome, Granger." It wasn't enough, he needed to do more. His inner voices still weren't satisfied.

He desperately needed peace."Hey Granger, before you go, can I ask you something?"He said. He was doing that weird soft thing again with his voice. Glancing up from the floor she peered at him a bit curiously, but her gaze lacked suspicion. " Yeah, sure alright. What do you want to know?" She replied.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek as he slid his empty glass back and forth between his hands, while he contemplated his question. " How-uh...How do you find your accommodations downstairs in the cellar?"He mumbled. She looked at him like he had grown an extra head on the side of his neck. "Pardon?" She asked, as though she had misheard him the first time.

Stilling his shifting hands, Draco sat up straighter, a pained expression on his face as he repeated his question. "The Cellar Granger... How is it living down there?" He said. He knew it had to be awful, but he needed to hear it from her.

It was as cold as the Arctic down there, and a straw mattress offered little comfort or warmth. He had never considered before now how she had been living. When he had been selfishly taking for granted crawling in a soft cozy bed every night. He watched as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to decide if she wanted to divulge just how uncomfortable it was. " Well um..not that I'm complaining by any means, but it can get rather cold, and the only plumbing down there is a sink. So that's where I do all my washing." She was speaking so softly, he was having to strain to hear her, and for the first time he really looked at her.

Raking His eyes over her, he finally noticed how unkempt she was.  
A wave of shame washed over him as he took in how thin and worn her dress was. How it practically hung off her small frame. Her skin was marginally clean, but her hair that once hung in a curtain of pristine righteous curls was a mess of grimy frizz, that she could only manage by piling on top of her head. Draco was suddenly furious with himself, she didn't look much better than the day he had taken her from her cage, and for some reason that made him hate himself a little more than he already did.

Standing up in a rush, he kicked his chair back and strode over to her in a flash. This was unacceptable to him. Mudblood or not she was a person. She was startled at his sudden rush towards her and she dug her heels into the floor as he wrapped his hand around her bicep firmly, but gently. In his inebriated state, he didn't think to stop to assure her he wasn't angry with her and it wasn't until he had started to drag her out of the room behind him that she let out a terrified squeak of alarm. " Seriously Malfoy, I'm not complaining. It- It's fine." She squealed.

He was fuming at himself. Stopping abruptly, he whirled around to face her, their bodies only inches apart as he spit his fury at her. " It's not fucking fine Granger. I'm a goddamn monster!" He half yelled at her.  
Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, swimming with unshed tears.  
He couldn't seem to understand why she looked so terrified, and he couldn't quite articulate why exactly that fueled the fire inside him. Gripping her a little more firmly he turned back around and began to drag her with a little more haste, the rubber of her shoes making an awful noise as she drug her feet. He didn't stop dragging her until they were down the hall in front of a guest room adjacent to his own.

With his free hand, he gripped the ornate brass handle and turned until the door clicked open. Pushing the door all the way open with his foot, he pulled her into the darkroom where she then began to scream at the top of her lungs, trying desperately to pull her arm free of his grip.  
Staring at her dumbfoundedly as she flailed her entire body, He tried to calmly get her attention. " Granger, stop it!... hey, come on seriously relax!" He pleaded with her.

Where ever she had gone in that moment, she couldn't hear him, as her screams faltered into broken sobs. Her nails dug into him as she tried to pry off her fingers. " P-p-please no, god no. I'm sorry, so s-sorry." She wailed, brokenly.

Sliding his hands up to grip her shoulders, Draco was mildly in a panic at how distraught she was. He gave her a jolt, her head snapping back then forward harshly as he raised his voice. " Bloody hell... GRANGER! I don't want to hurt you! You need to calm down before you hurt yourself!"

As her head snapped forward, the sudden movement seemed to draw her back from whatever headspace she had slipped into. Her screaming quieted immediately but it took her a full moment for her to stop sobbing. She was shaking violently and her skin had gone a sickly white as she kept gasping deep lung fulls of air. He didn't need to ask to know where her mind had gone and it shattered a part of him on the inside to watch her come apart like that, to know that it was his fault she had been hurt like that. He retracted his hands from her shoulder, giving her some space now that he had gotten her attention and waited for her to collect herself.

Wiping her hands over her wet face, she began to calm her breathing until the only thing that gave a tell that she had been upset, was the slight tremor that remained in her hands. Ignoring the fit she had just had, she turned away from him she looked around the darkroom, confused as to why he had drug her here. "What's this?" She rasped, her throat raw and husky from screaming.  
Glancing to the only bit of light streaming into the room from the window, Draco held out his hand towards the room in gesture. " I thought this might be more suitable for you then the cellar." He said.

Though she couldn't see it at the moment, the room was decorated in rich warm colors of soft gold and a deep wine red's. It was cozy and just so happened to be one of his more favorite guest rooms in the entire manor. So similar to her house colors, he was sure she would feel at home here."I'm sure the bed will be much better than a straw mattress on the floor. You also have a fully stocked bathroom through that connecting door there." He said as he pointed to the closed door to the far right.

" The door to your left is a walk-in closet. Tomorrow, I'll have some more uniforms sent up for you as well as something suitable to sleep in." He continued to speak. Granger's mouth had been hanging open from the moment he told her the room belonged to her. Her eyes were so wide he was afraid they might fall out on the floor. "W-why?"She  
finally croaked.

She looked to the plush king-sized bed longingly as she spoke.  
Shaking his head, he was unsure how to answer that question. All he knew was after everything that had happened, he couldn't stomach the thought of her sleeping on a cold dirty floor.  
Somewhere along the way, he had grown soft, or maybe it was just the alcohol. He couldn't tell her that though. It was too personal, and he had already crossed enough lines this evening.

" If I had known how poor your living conditions were I would have done this a long time ago. You cannot operate at full compacity if you aren't getting a proper amount of restful sleep. I do not accept anything less the perfection, besides if you're going to be wondering about my home I can't have you filthy. Even my house-elves are held to a standard." He said a bit stiffly.

He could feel his exhaustion creeping in and his leg had begun to throb painfully now as he looked away from her. " I'm going to bed Granger. When I see you tomorrow, please be presentable." Leaving her then, he shut her bedroom door with a snap, missing the quiet "Thank you." That followed his retreat.

Falling into his bed across the hall from her, he didn't even bother to get undressed. All the whiskey in his system was finally catching up to him. He was floating on a sea of it. Closing his eyes, he let it pull him down into a heavy sleep. His dreams were filled with her screams.


	6. Chapter 6: Delicacy

d(A/N)  
Sorry for the long, abrupt hiatus. Hello, again my loves. I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone's continued support and positivity. I also wanted to briefly address some specific feedback that has been neither constructive or polite, from people hiding behind guest reviews. First and foremost this fic was never meant to be light fluffy and romantic. There will be less intense chapters to alleviate some of the heavy content and to keep it from being monotonous. That being said these are fictional characters and I will depict them however I see fit.

If Dramione pairings are not your thing, that is not my problem. I write what I like, you are under no obligation to read it and leave hateful feedback just because you have a boner for Ron. I'm not a lazy writer and I've invested many hours into writing this. I try not to take it personally but I've poured a lot of myself into this and it's difficult not to feel offended and it has stunted my headspace in moving forward. I feel very much that the only characters that J.K deemed strictly awful and unredeemable were Voldemort.

People are neither black and white. None are all good, and none are all bad, we are simply human. To the one guest review that pointed out that most people raped do not achieve orgasm during the act, I appreciate your assessment, but I don't need you to point anything out. Though it isn't super common it does happen, especially if you have been attacked by someone you have been intimate with before. Your mind can disassociate. I am a victim of sexual assault. Not everyone behaves the same way during or after sexual assault and I've used my own trauma to depict that scene.

This is the only time I will address or indulge this negativity. If you don't have anything useful to input or kind to say I don't rightly give a fuck and you can suck my asshole! Anyways, moving on. the last chapter I posted was considerably longer than my others and I would like to continue with that length moving forward. The musical inspiration for this chapter Phora- Fake Smiles, Onward ho.

Laying sprawled out on the plush mattress, her arms wrapped around her middle as she hugged herself. Hermione stared up at the sheer canopy above her. The warm tingle from her single glass of whiskey had long since faded as well as the urge to go back to sleep. She was exhausted, but she knew the moment she closed her eyes, she would be right back there. Trapped down in that frigid cellar with Ronald. She wasn't entirely sure what had triggered that moment. Where reality had slipped from her grasp and sucked her right back into those horrific memories. Malfoy had scared her when he had lept from his seat and forced her down the hall, but the moment she entered the room and was enveloped in the darkness, something in her had snapped. Suddenly it wasn't Malfoy's hands on her anymore, it was his and all she could do was scream. He hadn't meant to scare her, she knew that. He had only been trying to be kind.

Somehow that was even more terrifying. Since when had Malfoy given a damn about anyone other than himself? None of it made any sense. Rolling onto her side, she tucked her hands under her pillow as she curled her knees up to her chest. Her heart had yet to stop racing and her lungs felt tight as she failed to draw a full breath. She laid like that for a while as the night slowly slipped away and the sun started to crest the horizon, bathing her room in a warm pink glow. As the darkness abated so did some of her anxiety, and she finally got a proper look at the room she was in. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she stretched her arms above her head, trying to work out some of the stiffness in her limbs. It was a rather lovely room. It reminded her a bit of her dorm room at Hogwarts, with its gold and deep red decor. Although it was considered a bit more lavish. It was...strange. Why would Malfoy,(King of all things dark and gloomy) decorate his guest room in Gryffindor colors? Stranger still, why had he given it to her? Since when did the big bad Death Eater start feeling guilty for the likes of her? It hadn't been his fault, what Ron had done to her, and even if it had, why should it have mattered to him? She had too many questions and not a single answer for any of them.

Highly suspicious as she was, she wasn't the ungrateful type. It was much too early for Malfoy to be up, so she had plenty of time to come up with a proper thank you. Word's seemed a bit inadequate for the trouble he had gone to. She wasn't fond of the ferret by any means, but logically she knew had she been given to any other pureblooded family her life would have been much worse. He hadn't been exactly kind up until recently, but he had left her alone for the most part. Upstairs seemed more impossibly quiet than even her cellar dwellings. At least there the heavy silence had been broken up by the steady drip of a leaky sink fixture. Here it was almost oppressive. Pressing the pads of her bare feet into the plush burgundy rug under her, Hermione almost sighed with relief that the cold that had once settled into her bones was gone. She stood wiggling her toes in the soft fibers, compared to the stones floors of the cellar this was heaven and she was stepping on a cloud.

The spotless room and clean linens made her suddenly aware at just how grimey and foul she was as a rush of air forced the scent of herself into her senses. Her dull dress smelled stagnant like moldy decay and it scratched against her skin. Glancing to the closed washroom door, her need to crawl into a bath was monumental. Striding across the room, she opened the door swiftly and gasped. Her washroom was straight out of a fantasy, granted it mimicked much of the other ones in the manor, this one was all hers. The floors were a feminine white and cream marble, and the sink, toilet, and tub were all a blinding white porcelain. The tub in itself was the nicest thing she had ever laid eyes on, massive and claw-footed. It could fit 4 of her in it easily and had multiple taps, similar to the prefects' bath at Hogwarts. A hamper sat tucked beside the sink, and Hermione only briefly paused to admire how unusually warm the marble felt beneath her feet before she peeled off her dirty garments and tossed them into the hamper. 'It must be charmed', she thought.

Perching herself on the lip of the tub, she reached out to test the different spigots. Twisting the handle closest to her, plain hot tap water poured out. It wasn't hot enough to scald her but it was warm enough to tinge her fingers pink as she tested it. She stoppered the tub, letting it slowly fill as she twisted another knob. Giddy laughter fell from her lips as rich milk, and honey-scented froth poured out. She was curious to try the others, but her need to sink into the water outweighed her curiosity. There would be plenty of other times to indulge later. Twisting her body Hermione dipped her feet in, letting herself adjust to the temperature before she slid her whole body into the tub gently. She let out a heavy groan as she sank into the warmth. The water bobbed just up to her belly button and she tipped her head back onto the lip as she let the water continue to fill.

It wasn't until the water tickled the tops of her breasts that she leaned up to turn off the spigot. Settling back against the tub, she let her eyelids flutter closed as she let out a content sigh. She hadn't felt this good since even before the war had ended. Being on the run for almost a full year had left no time for simple pleasures such as a warm bath. Even with a warming charm, trying to wash off in a stream left little to be desired. She wanted to feel guilty about enjoying this, but she just didn't have it in her anymore to feel guilty for enjoying what little she could. Hermione simply laid there for a while until her fingers and toes started to prune and all the bubbles had dissipated. The water was growing a bit chilly and, reluctantly, she sat up in search of soap, shampoo and by a chance conditioner to help untangle the rats nest on her head. Digging through the tub catty that hung over the side, she found a lightly scented bar of soap, a natural sea sponge loofah, and a set of expensive shampoo and conditioner. Working the bar of soap into the loofa, she took her time, washing every inch of her skin. Over and over she washed until her skin felt raw.

Logically, she knew after the second time she had lathered her skin, that she couldn't possibly get any cleaner, but she couldn't stop. She felt as though if she could just keep scrubbing, that she could wash away the filthy shame that layered her like a blanket. The more she scrubbed the more manic she felt until a sob escaped her chest. by the time she let the sponge drop into the water with a wet splosh, her teeth were chattering. The dirty feeling she had wasn't on her skin, and that knowledge made her curl into herself, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She just wanted to be clean, but even this small enjoyable thing was tainted. Wiping away her tears, she quickly shampooed and conditioned her hair before unstoppering the tub. The once clear water looked murky and tinged the color of dirt. Crawling out, she reached for a folded towel, tucked in a shelf above the hamper.

She wrapped the white linen around her nude form and delighted in how softly it caressed her raw flesh. It was quite possibly the softest towel she had ever touched. It helped ground her a bit as she toweled dry. When she had finally reached her hair, her tears had dried and she felt numb. Wrapping up her wet curls in the towel, she twisted it until it sat like a crown on her head and she padded out the bathroom in search of something to put on. Her room was without a dresser so that only left the closet. Pushing the door ajar, she peered into the closet as light flooded the room. To her surprise, one side of the closet hung a neat row of plain, but pristine A-line black dresses. They were all essentially the same, other than the difference in cut. Her winter uniform dress had full-length sleeves and reached down to her feet whereas the summer attire was mid sleeve and fell just above the knee. All of them had a scooped neckline and an elegant scrolled M right across the left breast. Was the M for "Malfoy" or "Mudblood"?

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what the M stood for. On the opposite side of the room hung simple white sleeping gowns. Much like the black dresses, they alternated between summer and winter. At the very end of the closet set a small row of built-in drawers with three pairs of low simple black heels lined beneath them. Pulling open the drawers she found plain cotton knickers and a matching bra's. Nothing fancy, they were unwired and resembled something her mother might wear. The next two drawers held thick black woolen tights for the winter weather, and sheer nude stockings for the warmer months. Though plain they all looked rather sophisticated, much more appealing than the dirty mop water colored dress that she had been wearing that more resembled a sack than a dress. She planned to shove that dingy thing in the nearest fire. Pulling out a set of undergarments, a pair of the thick woolen tights, she collected her shoes and one of the long-sleeved dresses. Exiting the closet she laid out her outfit and began to dress.

Everything she put on fit her body like a glove. Her bra though wireless, supported her chest perfectly and was impossibly comfortable. When she finally made it to her tights and dress, they both slid smoothly over her like butter, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth. She slipped on her low heels and backtracked to the bathroom again. Pulling the wet towel from her head, she tossed the soggy linen into the hamper and peered at her reflection. She looked like hell. Her cheeks were hallowed from the weight she had lost, and the dark purple bags under her eyes resembled bruises. She felt sad looking at herself, it was like watching a slow death. Letting out a huff of disappointment, she yanked open the vanity mirror, wondering if it held a brush or toiletries. Eyes widening she let out another gasp of surprise. Not only did she have a brush, but it also held a toothbrush, toothpaste, hair ties, a small bag of simple cosmetics, a bottle of expensive-looking perfume, feminine napkins, and several bottles of potions.

Standing up on her toes, she read the elegant scrolled labels on the potions. ' Curl control'...' Pepper up'...' Contraception'... and the last vial read 'Pre-menstrual pain relief.' It was all so much. Everything had been fully and practically stocked with everything she needed or could need. It was over the top thoughtful and her only conclusion was that whoever was in the room adjacent hers was an imposter Malfoy. A wave of dread washed over her at that. With shaking hands, she reached for the 'curl control' potion and her brush. It took her longer than she cared for to unstopper the potion and work it in her hair, but eventually, her frizzy mane fell in smooth loose curls down to the small of her back, brushing the top of her bum. Her hands continued to shake as she styled and twisted her hair into a chich bun at the base of her neck, her anxiety assaulting her with thoughts. Who could the imposter be, and what the hell did they want with her? Were they foe, or friend?

Placing her brush and the 'curl control' back in the vanity, she opened her cosmetic bag and wondered if a bit of makeup might make her look a little less like a corpse. She applied a bit of eyeliner and mascara. Than topped her lips with a bit of blush tinted lip balm. The bag lacked any kind of concealer for her bags so she closed it and gave her reflection another glance. She still looked a bit dead, but in more of edgy vogue way, with her prominent cheekbones and smokey eyes. The old Hermione would've wrinkled her nose at wearing makeup if she didn't have to, but the old Hermione was dead. She had always heard the other girl's in her dorm go on and on about how a bit of makeup could make you feel better and though it was entirely psychosomatic, she finally understood. She felt a bit better looking at her reflection. She let her gaze drift away as she spritzes some of the perfume on. The fragrance was soft and delicate though she couldn't place it. It wasn't flowery or fruity, but it made her feel a bit like a lady.

Her stomach gave a loud growl as she closed the vanity. She was starving. The meal she had scarfed down last night had been delicious, but it had stretched out her stomach from the meager meals she had been used to and it left a gaping pit. A soft knock on her door caught her attention and Hermione turned to peer from the washroom as her door opened to reveal the imposter. He looked more casual than she had ever seen him. Though still impeccably dressed in fitted trousers attached with suspenders, a crisp white oxford with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his usual dragon hide loafers. As impossible as he was, he had left his hair mussed and it hung down over his face in a way that made him look a bit roguish and mischievous. Hermione though a bit surprised by his intrusion, strode from the washroom to greet him. Her eyes raking over him and taking him in. He didn't look much more alive then she had when she had first rolled out of bed. His eyes were lidded and he carried himself as if he were nursing an atrocious hangover.

His hands were tucked in his pockets and for the first time, Hermione noticed the dark mark wasn't the only tattoo he sported. He leaned against her door frame casually as the muscles in his heavily tattooed forearms flexed a bit, his lips curving into the faintest of smirks. She was entranced by the intricate ink work that scrawled from his wrist and disappeared under the rolled sleeve of his oxford. So entranced she almost missed the husky drawl of his greeting. "Granger." Snapping her gaze up from his arms, she felt a slight blush tinged her cheeks. If he had noticed her oogling, his face didn't give it away. "Malfoy," she replied a bit timidly. She had meant for her voice to come out a bit stronger, but his casual approach had unarmed her.

" I see you found everything just fine. I figured it was about time to give you something a bit more appropriate to skulk about the manor in than some dirty old pillowcase." A bit of humor sparkled in his eyes as he continued. " There for a moment you were starting to resemble Dobby." She knew he wasn't outright trying to be insensitive, but at that, she flinched. Images of her fallen elf friend clutching Harry as he took his last breath bombarding her with a fresh wave of pain. Dobby's death was just as fresh and raw as the rest of the war still was to her. It felt as if he had struck her and she took a wounded breath. He noticed the way she visibly shrunk and his face fell as he realized his mistake. "Ah.. shit Granger... I-I didn't mean to- What I mean is- Fuck...I'm sorry." She shook her head dismissively glancing away from him as her arms came to wrap around herself.

Of all the things Malfoy would do, apologizing was not one of them. Steeling herself, Hermione whipped her head back to face him, pinning him with the hardest look she could muster as she studied his face. " In the third year, why did I punch you in the face?" Confusion molted his features and his posture stiffened as he rose from his leaned position on the door frame. " You're joking, right? You didn't punch me, Gran-." "Wrong answer." She blurted, cutting him off. Letting her arms drop to her side, panic flooded her with adrenaline and before he could even take his hands out of his pockets, she launched herself at him. She felt a wild sense of fight rise up at her and she rolled her shoulder right into his sternum on impact. She was small but her sudden launch both knocked him off his feet and forced all the air out of his lungs.

He toppled backward and she fell with him, tucking her elbows in to jab him in the ribs as she landed on top of him. Hermione wasn't versed in hand to hand combat, but she had taken enough hits to know what hurt. He let out a pained grunt as he collided with the floor and her elbows made contact. Struggling to catch his breath, his arms wound their way around her back trying to lock her in place, but she wasn't about to let him subdue her. She let out an angry howl similar to a furious cat as she jerked her arms up. His eyes were wide and stunned as he looked up at her taken back by her ferocity. Curling her fingers like claws her hands shot up to claw at his face, hoping to blind the imposter. She might have stunned him with her first attack but as she went for his face, his hands snapped around her wrists, as she just barely managed to claw a spot above his brow. Tightening his grip around her, he twisted her wrists to the side painfully as he bodily rolled them. He tried to use his weight advantage to pin her between him and the floor.

A fresh sense of panic flooded her brain and she began to thrash under him, her whole body arching up off the floor into him as she kicked and kneed him. Another angry howl tore from her throat before she began screaming " IMPOSTER" at the top of her lungs. He was positively shaken, as he stared down at her his voice quivering as he kept calling her name, trying to calm her fit. Forcing her arms above her head he one-handedly Malfoy held her in place before he flatted himself completely on top of her, his forearm pressing down into the side of her neck. He slowly applied pressure there until her body felt heavy and black spots danced in her vision. Under him, Hermione wheezed, struggling to draw a full breath. He was going to choke her to death. She was desperate to get free, but the pressure he had on her main artery had her quieted as she fought to remain conscious. When he was satisfied she was less of a threat, he gently let up on the pressure on her neck. " Granger, Have you completely lost your fucking mind?" His confused shock was ebbing away and she could hear the icy fury in the edge of his voice. Panting as her vision started to return she let her head slump back into the floor with a dull defeated thud.

" You're an imposter!" she gasped quietly. " Only the real Draco Malfoy, would know the answer to that question. A pretty shite imposter too if you ask me, everyone knows I punched him in the third year." She followed. His metallic mercury hues had turned into a dark raging storm as he glowered down at her. His expression tight and hard. "What I was trying to say before you attacked me like a bloody psychopath-" He gritted out between his clenched teeth. " Was that it was hardly a punch, more like a girly slap. As for why you stuck me, it was because I was teasing you about that bloody bird monster that was scheduled to have his head lopped off, you stupid bint."

Hermione melted under him, her entire body going boneless and still as she physically deflated. All the fight rushed out of her as he recanted the incident, leaving her feeling embarrassed and horrified with herself. She had physically attacked him, the real Malfoy. Something wet splashed against her face and Hermione blanched when she realized it was blood from the scratch she had inflicted on him. The sudden droplet of red against her cheek had him releasing his grip on her wrist to bring his fingers to the wound. Pressing his fingertips to the wound, he lightly winced before drawing them back to inspect his crimson coated digits. "Fuck, you're like a feral cat." Pushing himself off of her, he stood up, leaving her sprawled out on the floor ungracefully. Though he didn't lash out at her, his anger was still visibly rippling under the surface.

Hermione didn't understand what was happening to her. Last night she had completely mentally shattered. Then this morning she had concluded he was some sort of imposter and physically assaulted him as if she were some wild animal. It wasn't like her to fall apart nor be highly paranoid of someone simply because they were acting out of character. To be fair to Malfoy, it wasn't like she really knew him outside of the boy he had been at Hogwarts. Who was she to make assumptions? Her nerves were shot, and she could feel her whole body trembling. " I-I don't know what comes over me...I thought m-maybe someone had been posing as you." She whispered through her chattering teeth.

It had been true, for one delusional moment, she had convinced herself that he couldn't possibly be real. The delusion that somehow she was important enough to be lied to and deceived. As if there were more information left, worthy of all this. As if the time she had spent locked in a cage surrounded by death eaters, they hadn't thoroughly scoured her entire catalog of memories from birth until Harry's demise. She wondered if her brain was cracking under the stress of it all, or if all those curses and hours spent tearing through her memories somehow irreparably damaged her frontal lobe. Maybe she had suffered too many concussions...

Malfoy's face crumpled with a hint of sadness and scathing hatred as he glared down at her. "What in the name of Salazar, makes you think I'm an imposter? And if I was, wouldn't I have just murdered you to save myself the hassle of being found out by a nosey bushy-haired swot?" He hissed at her. She felt her eyes prick and then suddenly they were brimming with tears. He was right of course, but she was at a loss on how to explain to him ' you were being nice so I automatically assumed someone was pretending to be you.' Now that she rationalized it, it even sounded daft to her. "N-no you're right Malfoy...I-I'm not feeling myself at the moment." She could feel his gaze burning her as he stared down at her. " Make no mistake Granger, just because I felt a moment's pity for you, and went out of my way to treat you like a guest in my home does not mean I am not the same person who had you flogged for improperly making a bed, and if you ever forget yourself like you just did you will personally discover that my hand can be a lot more heavy then Crabb's." He drawled.

His threat was not taken lightly, she knew better than to assume that he had lost his edge. She had seen first hand how easily Malfoy could strike her down without a single blink or moment of hesitation. If there was one thing that was absolute, If you were deemed an enemy of Draco Malfoy, your life expectancy was bar none. She didn't want to find out how heavy-handed Malfoy was. Considering the state Crabb had left her in, all battered and bloody. She hadn't been able to lay on her back for weeks and every movement she made had been agony. If it hadn't been for the kindness of the brave little house elf that had patched her up, she probably would've grown septic and died down in that dank cellar. If nothing else she could tell by his calm demeanor that his promise was not empty. It was merely a warning for her to get her shit together.

Using a bit of wandless magic, she heard him mutter a quiet "Episkey." Followed by a quick " Scourgify." The wounded skin on his face knitted itself together and the blood that had dripped over his face and down to the collar of his crisp Oxford vanished as if it had never happened. Taking a sobering breath, Malfoy raked his finger through his hair, pushing it back away from his face as he gathered himself. He looked worn and yet still held an edge of deadly violence, that both frightened her, but made her lower belly give a gentle flutter. Shaking her head to clear it, Hermione slowly got to her feet. There had to be something wrong with her, there was no way in hell if she were in her right mind, that she would ever find Malfoy anything but repulsive. Yet the way his hard body had pressed into her completely...NO! She was not going there!

Smoothing her hands over her bun, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that she hadn't even knocked a hair out of place during their scuffle. She cleared her throat softly as she kept her gaze level with his shoulders, too ashamed to meet his eyes. "Was uh...There something you wanted Malfoy?" In her peripherals, she watched as his hands twitched at his sides before he tucked them back into his trouser pockets. A nervous tick of his she supposed. "Actually, I was just wondering if you would like to join me for breakfast. This isn't something we can make a habit of, but since it's just us...Honestly I could use the company." He replied, his voice a bit tense. Hermione felt her hackles rise again. Had she been sucked through some parallel universe while she slept?

A part of her was really distrustful at the sudden turn in her treatment, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to spend any more time around Malfoy then she had already. Especially after she had just attacked him. Sure he was being Unusually pleasant, but it was all so surreal. Though it was impossible to decline the invitation, not when her stomach felt like it was eating itself. It had been such a long time since she had a real breakfast that she was almost salivating at the thought of anything that wasn't her usual meal in the form of congealed mush. If she breathed deeply enough she could almost smell the cooked sausages from the dining hall. Letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment, she imagined her hands curling around a strong cup of Earl Gray as she savored a piece of delectable fresh fruit. She could practically taste the burst of sweet juices on her tongue.

Hermione Let out a pleased hum at her thoughts, her stomach giving another hungry growl. Her cheeks blushed a bashful pink as she let her eyes flutter open to peer up at him from under her lashes, her head nodding on its own. He seemed pleased as he watched her, that she had agreed without much hesitation. He still looked a bit ruffled but his face softened a bit as he nodded towards the hallway. " Shall we then, I'm rather ravenous after skiving off dinner last night Granger."  
-

The spread downstairs had been more elaborate than he had been intending for it to be originally. Draco was silently pleased though as he folded a napkin over his lap and watched as Granger shoved half of the sausage in her mouth. The lengths he had gone to that morning with her room and breakfast made it almost impossible to deny that he at least cared for her well being, but he pacified himself with the thought that her withered state simply reminded him too much of Astoria. Tucking into his own delicate plate of strawberry topped Crepes, Draco chewed mechanically, lost in his thoughts. He Understood why Granger had been so suspicious of his behavior. Hell, he didn't understand it himself. He had done horribly inhuman things to protect his family in the service of the dark lord. Yet in the end, he hadn't protected anyone, had he? They were all dead. The only person he had managed to protect was himself, and he would've gladly traded his life for his wife and child or even his mother any day.

He had nothing left to excuse his crimes or ease his conscious. He thought perhaps that it had been Karma's way of punishing him. Across from him Granger's satisfied sigh pulled him from his musings and he smiled to himself as she stabbed the last bit of eggs on her plate and polished it off. It occurred to him, he had never properly looked at her before. Now that her wild bush had been tamed into smooth curls and swept up into an elegant bun, he could see the delicate structure of her face. Her high cheekbones and a light dusting of freckles on a slightly upturned nose looked charming, and the slight smokiness of her slight makeup made her eyes look impossibly warm and inviting. Though it hadn't been much a few proper meals had given her a healthy coloring to her cheeks and he dared to think she appeared rather fetching like this. It was an ugly thought but he could see now the fixated obsession the weasle had with her.

He had thought she would appreciate the small touches to her vanity, he hadn't expected that he might too. Even over the mixed smells of food, he could smell the sweet scent of the perfume, and the bubble bath she had used. It was feminine and uniquely her, seeing as how the perfume was charmed to react to the wearers' natural oils on their skin. It reacted differently to each person. On her, it reminded him of a warm spring day. The uniforms she had been given, was something Astori had already planned and had made for Granger before she had passed. It was something he had neglected until now and he wished he hadn't. They made her look like a proper lady, hugging the contours of her slight body without being obscene. They were a marker of her position at the Malfoy manor without being crude or demeaning.

Draco wiped his mouth with his napkin before letting it drop onto his empty plate. They had both been rather silent during breakfast, which he was rather thankful for. It seemed as though every time he opened his mouth, something stupid flowed out. Something about the witch in front of him had crawled under his skin and laid eggs. Sure he felt bad for the way she had been treated, but he would've felt just as bad to see a dog in such conditions. Even so, now was not the time to start going soft. Soon he would have to step back into his role of Lord Malfoy, take a new wife, produce an heir and continue to serve as the Dark Lord's Enforcer. If anyone sensed so much as a mite's worth of weakness in him, he might as well Avada himself because he would be dead within the week.

Still, he had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the figure Granger had been hiding under that shapeless rucksack of a dress she had been wearing. He was sure no one would judge him, he was a man after all, and her figure was lovely, for a muggle-born. He could look all he wanted, so long as he kept his hands and dick to himself. Not that the thought had ever crossed his mind, just knowing Weasley had sullied her was enough to make his stomach turn. Taking a sip of his tea, he concluded it was time to reel himself back in and nip whatever he had been feeling the past few weeks in the bud before he crossed a line he couldn't un-cross. She had already gotten too brave with him in her room, and it was time she was reminded who he still was. Setting his teacup down on the plater, he steepled his fingers under his chin, resting his elbows on the table. His back was ramrod straight as he gazed at her, his familiar Malfoy mask carefully in place.

"Now that you're finished Granger, I'd like to go over some new duties I would like you to see to. " He drawled casually. He really didn't have anything for her to do, that the house-elves didn't see to already, but if he didn't find a use for her, a practical irreplaceable use, someone else would. He could see her interest peeked, and he watched as her delicate small hands moved to set her cutlery down on her empty plate, her brow furrowing in just the slightest as she studied him intently. as intensely curious as she was she remained quiet and poised waiting for him to elaborate. " Seeing as how I have a whole house full of elves, I see it as sort of a waste to have you continue to do these mundane chores... That being said I visited the greenhouse recently and I'm rather appalled by its deteriorated state."

Her eyes were boring into him, and it made him feel like he was under interrogation. It made him nervous. Clearing his throat he let his gaze drift off to stare at the portrait behind her, maybe if he didn't actually look at her directly he wouldn't be affected by her. "and that has what to do with me?" she replied quietly. Shifting in his seat Draco pulled out his cigarette container and fished one out. Placing the rolled tobacco between his lips and lighting the cancer stick with the tip of his wand, he inhaled. Closing the container with a sharp snap and placing it in his breast pocket, he exhaled a plume of smoke as he continued. " Well given the current situation with the world at the moment, potions are becoming a rather hard sought after commodity. A lot of stores were forced to close and there isn't a lot of expert potioneers left to brew more advanced potions... You've always possessed a certain amount of attention to detail and diligence needed for potions. I think putting your skill to use would be beneficial to both of us."

He chanced a glance at Granger, and he wished he hadn't. A small bit of life was shining in her whiskey-colored eyes. It was radiant and it made the strange flutter in his stomach return. He was worried if it continued he might be sick all over his morning paper. Just as quickly as life had entered her, he watched as it disappeared into disappointed features that were not at all flattering on her face. " Malfoy...I'm not allowed to do magic...how am I supposed to brew potions without a wand or a book...I can't even read a potions book...you'd be risking a lot if we were caught..." Silly little bookworm, it was surprising out of all the shit they had all been through, rule-breaking was still upon her list of things she did not like to do. He felt a smile breaking through his mask, tugging the corner of his lips, a sensation that felt foreign on his face. " Truly Granger, I'm touched that you're so concerned for my well being but those are simply details we can work around... you don't need a wand or a book to be brilliant, all we need is that big bushy head on top of your shoulders, and a steady hand." He replied.

She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, that small spark of life slowly returning as her pearly whites masticated the flesh of her plump lip. He was tempted to reach out and pluck the raw bruised petal from between her teeth and soothe it with his thumb. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette knocking the ash off into his plate. He needed to get out of this house. He hadn't really ventured out since he had lost Astoria and he clearly needed to get some fresh air, maybe bury himself balls deep in some Knockturn alley flesh. Anything to get rid of this sudden wriggling urge to do out of character, inappropriate things with the swot in front of him. " Anyways...It wasn't a suggestion Granger. This afternoon you will start work in the greenhouse. The weeds have taken over so until its all cleared that is your new task. When you've cleared it, then we will sit down and discuss this further. Besides, don't even try to sit here and act as though you weren't in my lab, everyday pumping out potions for Astoria..."

That was that. No room for argument. She nodded obediently, and whatever was shirring around in her head, died on her tongue. He sighed relieved she wasn't going to argue, but almost a bit let down that she didn't. She didn't stick around after that. Excusing herself he watched as she hurried off in the direction of the neglected greenhouse. He couldn't be sure if she was excited about being outside or excited to get away from him. He couldn't blame her though, could he? He was a foul, constant reminder that everyone she loved was dead and that his hand had directly put an end to any sense of normalcy in her life, destroyed her future with every Avada he had uttered. He was a monster, he knew that and she knew that. Sighing he tamped out his cigarette butt. This morning had been a rollercoaster and he would be lying if he said he wasn't stretched thin.

Part of him was tempted to follow Granger out there and hover over her while she pulled weeds, the logical part of himself knew he needed to find something to keep himself busy, at least for the day. Giving a light wave of his wand he summoned his traveling cloak. He decided a trip to Knockturn was needed, two birds one stone. He could pick up some seeds and he could probably at the very least catch an early lunch with a side of Knockturn ass. Giving one last glance back at the greenhouse Granger had slipped into, Draco shook his head, If anyone was going to be the death of him, it would be her.


	7. Chapter 7: Pug-faced Nightmares

**ch 7 A/N: Welcome back again. Given that I currently have an excessive amount of time on my hands as do most of you as well, I'll be trying my best to pump out some serious writing. Might as well take advantage of this lockdown " constructively" XD. Currently I'm stuck on the same old playlist driving myself insane so feel free to share some of your favorite songs in a review that may stir my creative juices! Once again I'd like to thank all of you for your kind reviews, and also your patience with my sporadic posting lately. So in this chapter I think I'll be introducing some mentioned characters, SO get ready for the DRAMAAAAAA! I cannot express how excited I am to amp up this chapter after a few of my more mellow ones! Buckle up buttercups! Inspo music Emma Bale- All I Want, Katie Perry- The one that got away, Ruth B- Lost boy, and Lewis Capaldi- bruises, his voice does something to my insides! Anyways once again Yonder Ho!**

Her hands were ruined! After two hours of pulling weeds and fighting thorned, overgrown bushes, Hermione's fingers were caked in dirt and raw to the bone. She had searched in vain for a pair of gardening gloves, but the only pair she had found had been weathered and left on the ground to rot and so she went about her task with bare hands. She could have popped back in the house and asked Malfoy for a pair, but she would rather work her fingers bloody before she asked him for anything. Hermione wasn't upset with him, per-say, more so she was so thankful for his recent acts of kindness, she didn't have it in her to complain in the slightest. Outside of his unpredictable shifts in mood, something in him had changed and she was unsure if she should be worried, or content that it seemed to be in her favor. Sitting back on her haunches, she let out a tired sigh, dragging the back of her hand across her damp forehead.

The greenhouse was no small structure, and the amount of weeds that needed pulling would take at least two weeks for her to accomplish without her wand. It was an overwhelming task, and yet she had nothing but time. That being said, months of inactivity and meager meals, had whittled her stamina and muscle mass down to nothing. Every muscle in her body was burning with overexertion. Her shoulders and arms were tight with strain and she struggled to even lift them to wipe the sweat from her brow. She was sore, but it felt good to be outside, to be doing something other than sulking about the manor, uselessly dusting and scrubbing already pristine loo's. Beams of sunlight filtered through the glass canopy warming her skin, and the air although still a bit crisp for early spring was fresh and she took deep lungfuls , savoring the comforting scent of newly turned dirt. It was the most at peace she had felt in a long time. A comfort that was innocent and untainted by the stains of the war. So peaceful that if she had known how therapeutic herbology could be, she might have spent a lot more time in the greenhouse next to sweet, soft-spoken Neville, than wasting her time in broom closet snogging a gangly redheaded man child. Hermione observed the bare patch of the garden she had been working on, proudly. It wasn't a huge dent but it was a start, and something about clearing away the weeds and dead plants settled the chaos inside her.

She was unsure how long Malfoy expected her to work, but she didn't think she had much juice left in her body at the moment. She supposed she could at the very least take a break for lunch and give her muscles a rest for a bit before returning to the task at hand. She doubted Malfoy had gone through all this trouble just to find her laid out in the greenhouse half dead. Pushing herself up off the ground Hermione dusted off the dirt and debris from her knees and slipped out of the greenhouse to wash her hands in the kitchen. Once inside, the manor felt empty, even the subtle hum of Malfoy's energy seemed vacant as she scrubbed the dirt from under her nails. Drying her hands on a dishtowel, she found herself rifling through the pantry. She found a breadbasket of freshly baked buns from this morning, some lightly salted crisps, and upon digging through the icebox retrieved a container of thinly sliced ham.

Popping a crisp in her mouth, she hummed at the salty delicacy as she set about making herself a simple wasn't until she had polished off her first sandwich and was halfway into a second that a thought occurred to her. Outside of the damage she had done to her hands pulling weeds, this was the first time since she had been at the Malfoy manor that not only had she woken up unburdened by aches and pains, it was the first time she had woken up in an actual bed. Today had been a big day for firsts. No matter how much she wanted to enjoy this day for what it was, she knew logically there was always a calm before a storm. The question was, what kind of storm was on her horizon? She couldn't even allow herself to enjoy the little things for a little bit and that was the real tragedy. Chewing the last bit of her remaining sandwich, she reached up to brush the bread crumbs from her dress when the pop of apparation from the distance and the alarm bells from the wards rung through the halls, signaling an unexpected guest.

Hermione was torn, she didn't know if she should hide or wait for Malfoy as the soft ringing of bells continued. A sense of terror crept over her as she stood rooted in place, hoping that Malfoy would be down any second. A full minute passed and still no snarky blond, and she could hear the heavy steps of the person just on the other side of the door. Her hand absently saught the little piece of wood that she kept in her pockets, and was rudely reminded was no longer in her possession. She was virtually helpless. From the kitchen doorway, she was hidden but the front door was visible to her, yet that gave her no solace. Another pop, and there by the entrance stood an unknown elf, clutching his terry cloth toga as he opened the door to greet the person on the other side. In the doorway stood the one and only simpering pug-faced bitch from her youth, and she looked ready to murder anyone that stood in her way.

Pansy was a vision straight out of her nightmares, ugly as ever and twice as hateful as she had been in school. Hermione had been fortunate enough to have not run into her at any of the Malfoy's social gatherings, she supposed her luck had finally run out. Snatching a carving knife from the kitchen island, she stayed hidden in the safety of the kitchen. It wasn't that Pansy was particularly terrifying or adept at curses, but she was ill-prepared for a battle. Pansy could pick her off before she even made it past the dining table with just her kitchen knife. "DRACO FUCKING MALFOY! You have exactly two seconds to get down here right this instant you minging wanker before I burn this entire fucking place to the ground and string up that mud-blooded whore piece by piece in the courtyard!" Hermione winced as Pansy's voice shook the whole house. It was the most obnoxious sound she had ever heard and that was saying something considering she had lived in a dorm with plenty of other girls for over 6 years."I'm not playing this game with you Draco, where the fuck is my husband!? Pansy called out again. The silence that followed was deafening outside of the other girls' labored breathing.

The elf at her feet hopped from one foot to the other nervously, tugging on Pansy's traveling cloak to get her attention "excuse me missus ... but master is away, Gibby can let the master know the missus stopped by?" He Squeaked up at her. Glaring down at the little elf in horror as if she had just noticed its presence, Pansy ripped her cloak from the small creatures grasp, her face molting into a violent shade of Scarlett. For a moment Hermione thought she might have been having a mild stroke, her body twitching rigidly as she morphed from Scarlett to violet. Rearing her stubby leg back as far as she could, she watched as Pansy kicked the poor little elf all the way to the foot of the grand staircase. His tiny body slid along the floor until he collided with the bottom step with a sickening thud where he remained motionless.

Hermione had never been fond of using violence, even during the war she often used stunners rather than curses, but as the tiny little elf lay there in a heap, she felt like she might actually carve that bitches face-off with the knife in her hand. " How dare you put your filthy little hands on me! I am NOT leaving until Malfoy gets here!" Pansy shrieked. The ugly behemoth of a woman looked rabid, almost foaming at the mouth. She took a deep breath, steadying herself for the reckless things she was about to do. It was an awful idea, she knew she should just sit tight where she was and let Malfoy handle it when he got there. The wards were broken which meant he couldn't be too far off if the alarm was still active. Her hands trembled as she found some of her courage, reckless or not she wasn't going to stand by while this cow abused a poor innocent creature. Stepping from the kitchen into full view, she let her hand hang by her side, the knife still tight in her grasp. "Leave him alone Parkinson, he was just doing his job!" she half-shouted.

For a moment, Pansy looked half-stunned, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging slightly open in surprise. She took a step into the door, a slow, nasty grin spreading across her face. " So it is true then. Prized mud-blood of the chosen one locked away in the Malfoy estate. Tell me mud-blood, how does it feel having spent so much time standing up for house-elves that now you get to live as one?" She baited. Glaring at Pansy, Hermione's body hummed with adrenaline, and she felt her nails biting into her palm as her free hand curled into a fist. "Oh I don't know, seems a step above being a pure-blood breeding cow, How's that going for you Parkinson?" She hissed through gritted teeth. Pansy's face flickered only slightly, her rage tightly concealed behind her evil grin. " Oh haven't you heard... It's Weasley now..." She replied almost friendly. Hermione felt the color drain from her face, her resolve crumbling instantly as she broke out in a profuse sweat, her retorts dying on her tongue. " And a little birdie tells me you've been spending an awful lot of time on your back whoring your quim out to death eaters than scrubbing toilets. How lucky am I that you never could resist sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong... I think its time we had a chat, girl to girl" Her voice taking on sickly sweet tone as her wand drew to point at her.

-(Draco's POV)-

The fresh air, did wonders for his mood. Early spring was in the air, and he had a slight bounce in his stride. Sure he had slept like shit per usual and he felt a bit groggy with a hangover, but overall, his mood had improved drastically. The weight on his chest felt a little less heavy. His pockets felt a little less heavy too. He stood by an open cart his eyes scanning the bags of seeds, and ready-made potions ingredients, his fingers hovering over a bag of moonseed. He wasn't sure if he would have a use for them, but it was a rare find that one didn't come across often if ever. " Oi, are you buying or not, I 'haven't got all day." The old woman behind the stall grunted nastily at him. She eyed him warily, growing impatient with his inability to decide. Rolling his eyes, he fished out a small bag of gallons and dropped it onto the cart, fisting the bag of moonseed. Straightening himself to his full height he added the bag of seeds to the growing collection in his pockets as he drawled out " My apologies, I didn't realize hag's had a social life to maintain." Flashing the old woman a childish grin, he almost chuckled out loud as she hissed at him, her haggard wrinkled face pulling into a scowl, as she gnashed her rotten yellow teeth at him.

Stepping back into the throng of people on the street, he took his time, peering at the windows of the different shops. Though most shops seemed unappealing he did eventually wander into a book shop and procured a few new herbology and potions books to add to his already massive collection. Time passed by quickly and before he knew it his stomach was growling, demanding sustenance, and the familiar throb in his leg had returned. He hated that his body couldn't keep up anymore, that he couldn't just shop casually without having to sit down and give his leg a rest. Just another reason he felt weak.

Slowly he made his way to a newly opened pub called " The Serpent's Den." Staring up at the hanging sign, he almost gagged at the unoriginality of it all, the scrolled green and black lettering, the "S" itself an actual snake. If it got anymore predictable he might actually have an aneurysm. The pub itself wasn't exactly a hole in the wall but, it was a far cry from an upscale establishment. The furniture mostly matched but was clearly well used. There seemed to be a layer of grease on every surface, and the scent of stale beer clung to the air. In his opinion, it didn't seem much different than the hogshead Inn. The only difference was it seemed a little less drafty and the staff seemed much more pleasant and a lot less sourly.

Pushing his way inside the crowded pub, he limped his way up to the bar and ordered himself a quick lunch of fish and chips with a pint to wash it all down. Making quick work of his meal, Draco shifted on his rickety bar stool as he polished off his drink. Crowded as it was he recognized most of the faces there as people he worked with, it didn't exactly make him uncomfortable but he knew better than to let his guard down or linger for much longer. He had hoped for a quick romp before he headed back to the manor, but given the current sausage fest around him he doubted he would be getting a happy ending any time soon. A few moments later the meaty bartender, appeared in front of him to collect his dirty plate and eyed his empty glass. "Fancy another mate?" He wheezed out. Waving his hand dismissively, he slid his empty glass closer to the man " No thanks, unless you have any birds on the menu, I think ill be moving on." Reaching up to stroke his beard the man gave his attire a once over, trying to decide if he was worth the trouble before he brought his fingers to his lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

It was a bit startling for him, but as he looked over his shoulder, not a single person glanced up or paid any attention, except for one exhausted-looking waitress. Empty tray in hand, she poured the last bit of a pitcher into a waiting mug, teetering on a set of ridiculously tall heels as she blew an errant strand of hair from her face that had fallen free from her ponytail. She wasn't particularly striking with her dull, pencil straight, muddy brown hair and a rather plain face. It didn't have the same depth and richness that Granger's wild mane had, and her eyes lacked the same warmth. Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Draco tried to push that thought from his mind, he had no business even thinking about Granger like that. The whole point behind this outing in the first place was to get his mind off his lingering thoughts for her. Granger was the last person he should be thinking about in any way that was familiar. It was dangerous.

Clutching her empty tray and pitcher, the waitress made her way to his side settling her load on the bar top. Up close she wasn't much more attractive. She looked older then he had suspected, maybe her early forties, clearly she had been rode rough and hung up to dry. Though her figure was her winning attributes. Smooth caramel skin, that looked soft as satin, and a large perky bust that tapered into a petite waist and full hips. Her long legs went on for days, shapely and well-sculpted, and he imagined they would look stunning wrapped around him as he gave her the shagging of her life. She smiled at him politely though it didn't quite reach her eyes, which told him he wouldn't be the first nor the last that day to drop a bag of galleons in her hand, take her in the back and hike her skirt up around her waist. " The lad would like to order from the house menu, why don't you take him to the back and get him settled." The fat man wheezed at her, his beady eyes shifting to leer at her chest as he spoke. Ignoring the man, she popped her hip out to the side as she smoothed her hands over her apron and rested them on her hips squaring her shoulders back and pushing out her chest a little more in the invitation as she studied him.

She wasn't dressed in a way he would consider scandalous, though her burgundy jumper was cut low and clung tightly to her frame that left little to the imagination. Her skirt was a light khaki, tight to accentuate her pert ass with a slit up the side to show off more of her imposibly long legs. She wasn't obvious in a way that screamed "Hooker", but not so plain as to not attract the wandering eye. Jerking her chin in the direction of a curtained doorway, her gaze lingered on him, sizing him up like he was some sort of meal ticket, trying to determine just how much she could squeeze out of him before she sent him on his way. "Shall we then?" she murmured as he stood. She led the way ahead, her hips switching in a manner that was both overly exaggerated and yet hypnotizing as he trailed behind her, enjoying the view. Behind the curtain was nothing but a few boxes for storage and a rickety staircase that went straight up. Fucking stairs, they were the bane of his existence, and yet they seemed to be everywhere. In another time in his life, he would've wrinkled his nose at the prospect of paying a woman for a shag, hell even if it was free, a plain-looking slut like her wouldn't have even been on his radar, but as his father once told him " You don't pay a whore for sex, you pay the whore to go away once you're done." Given that he hadn't had sex since Astoria, he was well overdue, and that's exactly what a needed, a nameless, mindless fuck. She wasn't the overly chatty type and the trek up the stairs was silent which he appreciated. Rounding the top step he was greeted by a short hallway with two doors on each side, and she wasted no time leading him to the far left. Pushing her way inside she gave her wand a wave and several candles flickered to life as she shut the door behind them with a gentle snap.

The room was cozy enough, not particularly clean but not overly filthy. It was bare of all furniture besides a dresser with a small vanity mirror and a spacious queen-sized bed. Gesturing to the mattress she paused by the mirror to check her reflection, wiping a bit of smudged eyeliner with the tip of her finger. Draco crossed the room and made himself comfortable, shrugging off his cloak and loosening his tie as he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, watching her through the mirror. " My name is Delilah by the way, sorry about the late introduction, I'm right haggard. Phil has me working doubles on top of turning out the rooms, but refuses to hire any more girls." She started, as she adjusted her tits. He nodded at her but kept his own introduction to himself, she didn't need to know his name, she didn't care and neither did he.

Pulling off her apron, she folded it neatly and placed it on the dresser as she continued, seemingly unbothered by his silence. " Right so first things first, I have set prices, not that you look the type to haggle prices. Its Fifty Galleons upfront for a full house special, and another ten if you're into any rough stuff." She stated matter-of-factly. Pulling his coin pouch from his breast pocket, he tossed it down on the mattress beside him, its contents jingling heavily as a cocky smirk pulled at his features. There was something inherently dirty about discussing money, and while some might have been put off by it, he could already feel the blood rushing to his cock. " Strip, and crawl to me on all fours, leave the heels on though." He replied silkily. He was in no rush, and he had every intention of making her work for it.

She moved with the skill and grace of a panther as she turned on her heels to face him, making a show of it as she peeled off her layers, tossing them haphazardly onto the dresser with her apron. She definitely was not new to this game, and Draco felt his pulse quicking as she sunk down to her hands and knees, her lean muscles coiling as she crawled to him like a predator stalking its prey. Her heavy tits swayed with movement, dark dusty pink nipples hardening to peaks as a soft wet tongue darted out to moisten her lips. If he didn;t know any better he'd almost think she wanted it as badly as he did. She was definitely committed to the act. He leaned back on his hands as she moved between his open legs, her hands sliding up the insides of his thighs teasingly, tracing the outline of his cock before she reached for buttons on his shirt, making quick work of them.

Draco's alabaster skin broke out into goosebumps as her hands found his bare chest, her nails gently scratching at the inked designs that scrawled down his torse, her nude body pressing into him. His erection was almost painful, throbbing in his trousers. Reaching behind her, his hands tangled in her hair yanking her head back a bit roughly as his lips brushed the smooth collum of her neck, inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume before his tongue trailed a hot, wet path down to the junction where her neck and shoulder meet, before bitting down gently on the soft flesh, eliciting a husky moan from her. He could feel her hands drifting down to his belt, tugging it loose with a practiced ease. She popped the button on his trousers, unzipping them and as her fingers hooked around his boxer briefs to tug them down his wadded up traveling cloak beneath him began to vibrate violently.

Letting out a string of curses, he released the grip he had on her hair and shoved his hand down into the tangle of fabric, feeling for the offending piece of wood. Closing his fingers around his wand. Draco, yanked it free and peered down at it, the tip glowing red to indicate that his wards at the manor had been broken, and he had an unwanted guest. " What's wrong? " She asked, undeterred as she began to tug down the fabric of his underwear. Jerking up to his feet suddenly, he all but toppled her into the floor. He almost apologized to her as he began redressing in haste, but he could've honestly cared less if she was hurt or not. He had no time to waste on it. He muttered a quiet spell and his button on his oxford began to rebutton themselves as he yanked his trousers up quickly fastening them and reaching for his cloak on the bed.

Draco stepped over the grumbling whore on the carpet, sparing her a glance. " I have to go, keep the money." He rushed out. She should've been pleased that she got paid anyways especially because of the extra fifty galleons he had left in the coin purse, instead, she scowled at him as he yanked the door open. " What the fu-" she started, but he was already out the door, moving at a faster pace then he was used to, as he strode down the hall and half jogged down the stairs. Whoever had entered his home uninvited had to either be really brave or really stupid and he was unsure of what he was about to walk into. In a few seconds he had cleared the entire flight, and was weaving through the people in the pub. His heart was racing as he stumbled onto the street, Granger wasn't safe there with whoever it was, he could feel it in his gut. Shoving his wand in his pocket, he took a deep breath trying to steady his nerves, and with a pop, he was gone.

Hermione's screams echoed off the walls, her body contorting at odd angles as fire ripped through every single one of her nerve endings. She had only been on the end of a cruciatus this powerfull once before and that had been at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. It was true that Pansy had never been very good at curses or spell work in general, but one thing she did not lack was an abundance of hatred. Just when she thought it was over, the fire in her limbs lessening to a dull ache, another wave came crashing down on her. It felt like her blood was boiling under her skin. She could faintly make out a riotous bought of laughter over her own screams, as Pansy took her pleasure from it, standing over her with her wand on her. The pain was so intense her bladder released soaking her tights and puddling on the floor beneath her.

Pansy lifted the curse as she stared down at her, her upturned nose wrinkling in disgust as she sniffed exaggeratedly. "Ew, did you piss yourself mud-blood?! Here I thought your kind couldn't be any more disgusting."She spat at her. Hermione gasped for air through her haze of agony, her lungs desperate for oxygen as the pain began to ebb. She could never get used to the feeling of the cruciatus curse, no matter how many times she had been on the end of it. It was a curse that lingered even after it had ended, sending sharp spasms of pain through your muscles for days after. In some cases, the pain would always linger, and in others they were driven to madness, hiding in the darkest recesses of their mind to escape its grip. She was terrified but also furious. Terrified that this would be the end for her, wallowing in the floor in her own piss as some prejudice bitch toyed with her, and furious that once again she was left alone, defenseless, at the mercy of others.

She had always tried to be kind-hearted. Doing her best not to cause harm or wrongdoings to others. So trying to find reasoning in this seemingly karmic imbalance, was maddening. What had she ever done to deserve any of this, besides exist? Prodding her in the temple with the tip of her expensive dragon skin boot Pansy continued to sneer down at her, her voice a dangerous whisper. " Did you think I'd never find out? That I wouldn't hunt you down and make you suffer?" She rasped, her chest heaving. Shaking her head back and forth in confusion Hermione stared up at her, errant tears escaping the corners of her eyes. " I don't know what you're talking about Pansy!" She wheezed, her voice cracking with strain. " So you've already forgotten then, have you? I understand, must be hard to recall all the men you've slept with when you spend all your time on your back." Pansy replied. Gritting her teeth, she continued. " I'm talking about my husband, you know the one you seduced by spreading your filthy legs. I am not going anywhere until you admit the truth and I have justice for the stain you have left on my family you fucking slut."

Hermione could feel the rage coursing through her body, her pulse pounding in her ears as she locked eyes with the hateful cow. How dare she!? She had never asked for Ron's misplaced lust. Never asked to be held down and sexually assaulted. She was a victim and she didn't care if the truth killed her, she would never lie to save herself. She would die before she ever gave either of them the satisfaction. Just not today, not like this. " I didn't seduce Ron, he raped me, over and over again. The truth will never change, no matter how much you torture me. I will die with a smile on my face, knowing he is getting everything he deserves!" She hissed venomously. A small flicker of emotion rippled over Pansy's face before it was replaced with pure hatred, her boot smashing into the side of Hermione's cheek as she screamed down at her. " You're lying!"Pain exploded across her face, the taste of copper filling her mouth as her head whipped violently to the side upon collision. Her hands reached to cradle her cheek and jaw as she groaned, crimson spilling down the corner of her lips.

The flesh beneath her fingers was already swelling, and her jaw felt odd. She hesitated to open it to speak. A loud shriek startled and as she turned her head back to face her, she was greeted by the sight of Malfoy. His hand was fisted around the other girls inky black tresses, yanking and dragging her so viciously her feet were struggling to stay under her. His face was so calm and impassive it was terrifying even as Pansy clawed and dug her nails into the back of his hand he didn't even so much as flinch. "Draco, let me go, I'm pregnant!" She stuttered out, her voice reaching a hysterical had he come from? " I don't rightly give a sack of flying fucks what you are Pansy, why are you in my home, uninvited, assaulting my staff?" He replied, his tone low and dangerous. "You know exactly why I'm here, where the bloody hell is my husband!?" She whimpered. Giving a sharp tug to her hair, he elicited another shriek from her, bending a bit so he was eye level with her. " And you know exactly where that tosser is, otherwise you wouldn't be here of all places." He replied, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he gritted his teeth. " So thats it is it Draco? You would side with a mud-blood over one of your own? Throw him to the dungeons and assault his pregnant wife?" She huffed out, her eyes watering with fake emotion.

"Let's get a few things straight shall we sweetheart..." He started, his free hand coming up to grip her by the jaw and squeeze tightly until she whimpered. " First and foremost, he is not one of my own. He has been and always will be a filthy blood traitor..." He continued as he slowly backed her towards the open front door. His boots scuffed slightly along the floor and he spared a glance back at her, giving her a look mixed with sorrow and regret as she sat up slowly, staring at the scene quietly. After a brief pause he turned back to Pansy as he went on. " Secondly, throwing him in one of the Dark Lord's dungeons was not my doing. If I had it my way, he would've never left the manor alive. I wouldve slit him from his arsehole to his ear lobes and played with his entrails." He replied, his hands starting to shake with anger. " And lastly, the most important thing you should take from all of this, you are nothing. Just an insignificant breeder. You Have no family, you barely have any status, and the only person that would give a single fuck about you is rotting in a cell." He paused again as her heels scrapped against the threshold. " This is my home, and these are my things, both of which you violated with your presence. If you ever so much as breathe a word about me or anything to do with me, you will not be as fortunate as your husband. Am I clear?"

Hermione watched in shock at the pug-faced girl nodded at Malfoy, seemingly stunned. " Crystal!" Pansy whispered, her entire body trembling in his grip. "Good..." Malfoy replied as he released his grip on her hair, shoving her backward out the door by her face. He slammed the door so hard behind her Hermione was afraid the force would break it off its hinges as the entire doorframe rattled violently. She was so stunned she hadn't noticed he had even moved until his arm brushed hers as he crouched down beside her, his expression filled with concern. " That looks nasty Granger." He pointed out, tilting her face gingerly to examine the damage. Hissing quietly at the contact of him touching her overly sensitive skin, she flinched slightly. " It's alright." She managed, the whole side of her face throbbing with effort. " It's not alright" He said in a hushed tone, his eyes boring into her with intensity. " I can't seem to keep you from getting hurt..." She grunted softly in reply, not wanting to open her mouth again.

"C'mon Granger lets get you sorted." Looping his arm around her, he helped her to her feet, keeping a grip on her as she swayed a bit. Her mind raced as he slowly guided her up the stairs. He wasn't wrong, everything bad that had happened to her recently had been under his watch. He had come though hadn't he? Better late then never, she rationalized. Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit bitter. She wanted to rip herself away from him and tell him she could take care of herself just fine, but she couldn't could she? Not without a wand anyways. Hermione couldn't stand this feeling, this lack of independence. Having to depend on someone who was her enemy to keep her from getting murdered. Why couldn't she just have one single day that was both misery and Malfoy free!? As she rounded the top of the staircase, Hermione took a deep breath, her resolve hardening to stone. Never again would she be a victim, and if she died, so be it.


End file.
